Leaving on a jet plane....

So, tomorrow we are off to the UK for two weeks.

Am I anxious about this? Well, let's see, a 12 hour flight with two 10 month old babies and an eight hour time difference at the other end which is sure to result in some serious jet lag with the the boys......Hmm......

Yeah, I'm anxious about it. Actually, I'm expecting some real difficulty with the whole trip. The photo above (once AGAIN another brilliant picture taken by my wife that outclasses my own photography per usual) is me bowing my head to the fates and throwing the outcome of child-laden, international travel into the laps of the gods.

But, my children are half-British, and so we have heeded the call of geography. They have a huge family on the other side of the Atlantic which they have never met, and it's time to introduce them to the multitude of aunts, uncles, and cousins that have only seen my boys in photos. That will be nice. I do look forward to introducing them to everyone. Plus, Christmas in England has an undeniable charm to it.

Not to mention the buckets of real beer I'll be drinking when I'm there. I'm sure that will help.

The Land Of Nod....

I usually check on the boys 4 or 5 times before I go to bed.

I don't do this for any reason other than I love to see them sleeping. The day has long finished, the usual chaos has ended, and the house is peaceful. Restful. My children lay in their cribs, quietly breathing and dreaming of whatever babies dream of. Surely they are good dreams because the look of contentment on their faces is captivating.

Watching my children sleep tends to be the highlight of my day, and I am already aware that these moments will have a resonance with me for the rest of my life.

My wife was out of town last week with work for a few nights. It was just the boys and I. It's somewhat more complicated, and tiring, looking after two babies by yourself, but there is a kind of "bonding" that occurs during these times as well. One night, as I lay in my bed, I realized just how content I am as well. I was in my bed and my children, my sons, were in the next room. Sleeping peacefully and soundly.

It was a small moment, but sometimes small moments have their own subtle power that lingers far longer than expected.

There are nights when Heather and I will be on the sofa watching TV or reading and one of us will spontaneously say "Let's go look at the kids".

We get up, and gently pad into their room. The glow of their nightlight allows us to see them in a softened, golden focus. Two cribs. Two children. Our children. Holding onto the edge of their cribs we look down on them for a minute or two. We look down on them in wonder.

We then look up at each other with a kind of smile that all parents share at these times. I'm sure this ritual transcends to the beginning of the human experience. We are not the first couple to know the tangible joy that one's own children are tucked away safely in their beds and are watched over with love and awe.

No, we're not the first to have this experience, but at that exact point in time, those moments are ours alone. The intimacy is almost overwhelming.