I sit. Still. Chaos in the form of three wriggly little bodies, surrounds me. Mini ninja’s hootin’ and hollerin’, playing dollies and dress up, cowboy princess butterfly fairies (yes all four at once).  I watch in awe at their innate sense of fairness, each in turn showing kindness towards their fellow fairies.  Don’t get me wrong here, there is yelling and screaming and crying and “almost” biting (the Baby J is still confused about this biting thing -  she stops with a stern look now thank the baby jesus with a small j). Boundaries tested, bruises begotten, and the new phrase of the week “stinky corny poopy butt” flies around in the mix. They are teaching me. Yes… me. Things that grown ups forget after puberty. Mysteries of the childhood psyche revealed by tiny rutabegas  playing tag.

Feelings get hurt all the time. These can be healed by a kiss on the tears and a simple “sorry booboo”. Snuffly noses dried with sister’s sleeves and back to negotiating the Kingdom of Katywampus; named by Mommy of course.  Never leave the baby behind.  Baby J is slower but makes up for this by being the epitome of cute yelling “hey guys wait up don’t weave me pwease?”. She is lovingly included and rewarded for just being … the baby J.  She also allows the  little six year old  “mommy” Ella Bella, to practice being an instructor of things. Today’s lesson was about the earth being “sucked into the sun in five billion years” per the kids at the playground. In my day we giggled at boys, now they discuss quantum physics and the theory of relativity amongst other childish things.

Then there is the entity called BooBooLicious. Ultimate peacemaker, gymnast, and odd man out. In the forming of the eldest/youngest coalition, Boo is out in the cold.  Amazingly she is okay with this idea, playing her own game and dancing via the Black Eyed Peas boom boom style. She looks at me and grins, “Mommy look how pretty I dance by myself!” She is confidence in a 50 pound body, emitting self assurance in every way.  Finally the other two can’t stand being ignored and rope her back into the Katywampus Fiefdom.

No matter how many mini fights, tears, irritants, and social graces scorned; they forget all transgressions immediately. The ebb and flow of childhood makes me swell with awe and admiration at their loving spirits. They know who they are and what they are not without being told a single secret. I am fortunate to be in the club. Queen Mommy is loved beyond measure even though she does much wrong. I go and watch them sleep sometimes. When the chaos is quelled, their little chests rise and fall in that sweet slumber of no regrets. It is then that I breathe in the smell of love and know that maybe someday I too, can be like the beauty I behold in the purple and sage colored Kingdom of Katywampus.

And to think I could have missed all this … by simply picking up a drink.