#tbt in the dark of the night

I am a serious anglophile.  I really, really, really love England and all other British paraphernalia.  I soak up any information on the British Empire and the Royal Family.  I learn about daily life in England from my British pen pals and I stayed home from work to watch the Royal wedding live.  It was three in the morning but I was up glued to the TV.

I'm not really sure where this obsession started.  I know that I have always loved maps and wondering about how other people live.  I think the paradox of the people of the British Isles for me has to do with the fact that we lead such parallel lives.  It's intriguing to me how different and yet the same our lifestyles seem to be.  Like actual parallel lines, we are similar in direction but don't quite intersect.  The time difference also holds some strange allure for me.  I love imagining a world coming to life in the light of day while mine is asleep in the dark of the night.

It seemed natural, then, that my program of choice during late night feedings with Katelyn was BBC News.  I spent the three AM hour in the armchair of my parents' office, bathed in the glow of a nearly silent TV, with a hungrily nursing baby in my arms.  I always fixed myself a cold drink before settling into that familiar chair and Kate and I both enjoyed a beverage while serenaded by the soothing sounds of a British accent while the world around us slept.  I've said it many times but I never fully appreciated the peace and serenity of those quiet moments I was privileged to enjoy every night.

Tonight we spent some time at my parents' house.  My mom and Dave had a show recorded that they were excited to start watching and yesterday I discovered hours of documentaries about Queen Elizabeth that my mom had recorded for me.  We kissed Kate goodnight and put her to bed so that we could all watch our respective programs.

And she cried and she cried and she cried.

At first I thought she was staging a revolt.  We were at Grandma's house after all and she was missing a party.  I let her cry for a while as I settled into that familiar armchair in the office with a drink.  Soon, however, the crying shifted from anger to terror and I started to worry that she was scared alone in that dark room.

So I caved.

I went in and picked her up and she fell asleep slumped on my shoulder with her soft baby hair tickling my face.  I sat still for a while trying to perceive the evidence of a heavy sleep so I could put her down.  When I noticed her breathing becoming heavy and even, I tried gently putting her down in her crib.

And she woke up.

And I figured that we were at Grandma's and if you can't bend the rules at Grandma's house, where can you?

So I fixed her a big giant cup of soft pebbled ice and sat her on my lap in that fluffy office chair and for an hour we watched home videos courtesy of the Royal Family and Her Majesty The Queen.

And sitting there with a content baby in my lap, two cold beverages in my hands, the glow of a TV screen in a darkened office, and the soft sounds of a British accent, I was transported to the vivid memories of those dark precious nights last year.