The children have decided that for the purposes of this blog as well as life in general, they should take the names of Greek gods for nicknames. This is fine with me, as it adds a luster of glamour to our otherwise ordinary day to day existence. And we are quite fond of the Greek gods. Definitely not something on which to base a systematic theology, (talk about creating gods in your own image!) but oh my, can they ever be entertaining!
So here it is, my own private Mount Olympus: Artemis, our oldest, is goddess of the hunt and also devoted to the moon. While she doesn't yet show a penchant for bow and arrows, she definitely has a goal driven personality. She also has just officially begun babysitting which correlates nicely with Artemis' other trait of helping women in childbirth. She was given the option of being Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty, but she declined, to my relief. She is indeed loving and beautiful, but since she is only twelve, for the time being I would rather she be the goddess fleeing away from pursuing men.
Next is Bright-Eyed Athena who is ten. She is bright-eyed except for Thursdays after ballet class when she flops exhausted on the couch, and we have to peel her off and drop her into the bathtub. Similar to the ancient Athena, she has a knack for appearing at one's elbow when one is feeling down and uttering needed encouragement. Just like in The Odyssey when Telemachus is finally going to give his father up for dead after ten years, and POP! there is Athena telling him to keep looking for him. And when Odysseus comes home after all his travels to find his house discouragingly full of enemies, SWOOSH! there is Athena to give him a motivational seminar.
Apollo, god of light and music, popped out on a sunny summer afternoon eight years ago and hasn't stopped radiating since. It is true that he radiates less brightly during math revisions or when it's his turn to set the table, but generally he is the outgoing, freckly person that introduces himself to the entire campground or basketball team and leaves a little glow in his trail.
Last but not least is three year old Hermes, fleet-footed messenger of the gods and generally in charge of all kinds of mischief and trickery. Yes, I can hear him now, running fleetly up and down the hall. "Hey, Hermes," I hear his sister say, trying to get him out of her room, "Can you take this book to Mama?" "Hermes," says Mama, trying to keep him busy, "please go tell your brother it's time to start his math," and run, run, run back down the hall he goes, happy that he has an important errand.
The dear Papa has been assigned Zeus Thunderbolt, the All-Powerful, minus the philandering. That leaves me, and I feel that I should like to be Goddess of Afternoon Naps or Goddess of Dinner Effortlessly on the Table. But apparently these are not qualities that the Ancient Greeks exalted to the Olympian level.
Year before last, we studied the ancient Greeks, their art, mythology and contributions to our civilization. ("demos means people, so democracy means government by the people!...at least the rich male ones.") At the end of the unit, we held a Greek Feast downstairs in the family room and invited my brother and his wife over to dress up like gods and dine with us on ambrosia and nectar. While Uncle Chip as Hephaestus, god of fire, presided over the grilling of the ambrosia, (roughly translated as "pork souvlaki") we covered the floor with pillows and any white sheets that hadn't already been commandeered for togas. The kids made crowns out of fake ivy while I lit little candles around the room, making Zeus Thunderbolt rather nervous in his other identity as Ancient Greek Safety Officer. I was Hera, Queen of Heaven, which was fantastic because anytime I was crabby about anything, I said I was just playing my role, you got a problem with that?!
With the souvlaki done, Uncle Chip was wondrously transformed into Dionysus, god of wine and merriment, and graciously allowed the kids to dangle grape clusters from his ears. So there we were, garbed in togas more or less held together with safety pins, reclining on the floor with tasty dishes spread before us and bouzouki music softly playing. Two year old Hermes was running to and fro among the gods, clad in a diaper and a red bandana, as we had run out of white sheets.
Zeus welcomed us all to his golden hall, we started to eat, and...the phone rang. Arggh. Zeus got it, we heard him listen, then say, "Yeah, sure! Come on over!" Aphrodite-Auntie Janet and I looked at each other in dismay. Who exactly was coming over? We were in togas! A terrible moment came when I thought we'd all have to get a lot more presentable until Zeus informed us it was my niece, in town for a volleyball tournament, wondering if she could come by for a visit and a snack. She arrived and told us that her team had won their game, so we slung a flowered toga on her, dubbed her Nike, goddess of victory, and filled her plate with ambrosia.
