If you could go on a vacation to the destination of your choice and have the time of your life there, would you go? What if you knew that afterward you would remember nothing about it, would you still go? I answered “sure” to the first question but a quick, definite “not-a-chance” to the second. Why would you take a vacation if you’d have no memory of it? Isn’t life about the memories? Already I find myself talking about things that happened when the kids were little, when Mike and I were first married, when I was in college…etc. When I get together with extended family, we talk about the year it snowed 12 inches or the time the turkey burned. If there were no memories, what would matter?
Do you ever think about your legacy? What will people remember about you when you’re gone? What moments will come to mind, and what will be remembered about those moments? It really doesn’t matter what we do, it’s the memory of what we do that matters. What we think we offer the world is not necessarily what the world will remember about us. I know this because I did an experiment with my children. I asked them what they will remember about their dad when he happens to die (I know…a bit gruesome, but worthwhile) and they spewed out a whole bunch of great memories; some I’d even forgotten until they started talking. He always honked the horn when the kids walked in front of the car; he would start singing a song, expecting the kids to join in…etc. We laughed and interrupted each other and talked and were goofy for a long time. All the memories were good ones and there were plenty of them.
Then I asked what they would remember about me. That was a tougher question. There were some funny, happy memories that quickly surfaced, but it was a more quiet exchange… It seems that their dad is the “fun” one, the “silly” one and I am the “clean” one, the “can I go?” one. I’m the parent who makes and enforces the rules. At first I was kind of hurt that they didn’t remember all the things I remembered, but after some dwelling, I realize that parents have to balance each other, and that my role is a good one. My kids come to me with their homework, they tell me about their friends, their relationships, their lives. We discuss saving money, being honest, working hard, making good choices, making tough choices…it isn’t all fun, but we connect on a deep, genuine level. It’s not what I would think my kids would remember about me, but I’m completely OK with it, even proud of it. Some parent’s don’t have the trust and faith of their children, and I do. And, I’m happy I know what they think, so I can throw some “crazy” in the mix.
Today you’re living your memories…make sure they’re good ones!
Margaret
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Vacation Anyone?
As I was printing up my Christmas cards (that I’ll hopefully get sent out before the New Year), I noticed how happy my kid’s looked. And, I know it’s because they were on vacation when the pictures were taken. Not that they aren’t happy at home and at school and around town, but vacation happy is a different kind of happy. It’s an “I can sleep late and no one cares” kind of happy; it’s an “I don’t have to clean up my room or do laundry for a week” kind of happy; it’s a “take me to the beach” kind of happy, and it’s perfect!
I was happy too, on their vacation; however, I was not on vacation, I was on a trip.
You know how there is a fine line between a fast walk and a slow jog, or between black and navy? Well, that line doesn't exists between a vacation and a trip –they are completely different experiences!
On vacation, you can relax; you can soak up the environment and even forget what time it is. On vacation, you can choose what to do, and it’s perfectly acceptable. You can pamper yourself with visits to the spa, overpriced drinks, amazing show tickets, wine …um… not so much on a trip. On a trip, you are responsible for other people’s vacation. You are planning day trips, keeping time-lines, and driving in crazy traffic. You are packing snacks so you don't get stuck paying for overpriced Pringles; you are hosting hourly sunscreen rub-downs and counting heads at the beach, assuring that no one goes out too far. A trip is a fun adventure complete with compromise.
When I was 10, I remember driving from Kansas to California in an old station wagon named Sunshine. It was yellow, thus the name, and seven of us packed in for the adventure of a lifetime. Now, I don’t remember a lot from my early years, but I remember that vacation. I sat in the tiny space between the “back” (the forward facing middle seat) and the “back-back” (the backward facing, all-the-way-in-the-back seat). My sisters argued the whole way because they kept touching each other as they tried to sleep, and my brother’s feet stunk. We stopped on the side of the road to stretch and run and eat sandwiches from a cooler. We went pee behind trees or in nasty rest-stops. We only reserved one hotel room each night for all seven of us. My dad would check in, and then sneak a couple kids in after he had the keys – we weren’t flush with cash and a buck was a buck. We went to the ocean and saw the Grand Canyon and it was the best vacation ever!
But, the story is a little different told from my parent’s point of view…it was definitely a trip for them. They were the ones making the sandwiches and organizing the sleeping spots. They listened to all of us complain that we were hungry, thirsty, tired, uncomfortable, hot, bored…etc. They kept their patience pretty well as we sung the fiftieth verse of “100 Bottles of Pop on the Wall” and played the twentieth game of “Car Bingo”. It’s no wonder why they got us to the hotel pool about a nanosecond after we dropped our bags in the room; we’d play with each other and leave them alone for a few minutes…until we wanted them to “watch me dive mom!” They were ALWAYS with us.
One person’s trip is another person's vacation, and either way, they make for great stories and perfect memories. I can’t wait until next summer when we drive the kids to Utah and to visit some of the National Parks. It will be a grand vacation for the family, and a grand trip for me.
Margaret
I was happy too, on their vacation; however, I was not on vacation, I was on a trip.
You know how there is a fine line between a fast walk and a slow jog, or between black and navy? Well, that line doesn't exists between a vacation and a trip –they are completely different experiences!
On vacation, you can relax; you can soak up the environment and even forget what time it is. On vacation, you can choose what to do, and it’s perfectly acceptable. You can pamper yourself with visits to the spa, overpriced drinks, amazing show tickets, wine …um… not so much on a trip. On a trip, you are responsible for other people’s vacation. You are planning day trips, keeping time-lines, and driving in crazy traffic. You are packing snacks so you don't get stuck paying for overpriced Pringles; you are hosting hourly sunscreen rub-downs and counting heads at the beach, assuring that no one goes out too far. A trip is a fun adventure complete with compromise.
When I was 10, I remember driving from Kansas to California in an old station wagon named Sunshine. It was yellow, thus the name, and seven of us packed in for the adventure of a lifetime. Now, I don’t remember a lot from my early years, but I remember that vacation. I sat in the tiny space between the “back” (the forward facing middle seat) and the “back-back” (the backward facing, all-the-way-in-the-back seat). My sisters argued the whole way because they kept touching each other as they tried to sleep, and my brother’s feet stunk. We stopped on the side of the road to stretch and run and eat sandwiches from a cooler. We went pee behind trees or in nasty rest-stops. We only reserved one hotel room each night for all seven of us. My dad would check in, and then sneak a couple kids in after he had the keys – we weren’t flush with cash and a buck was a buck. We went to the ocean and saw the Grand Canyon and it was the best vacation ever!
But, the story is a little different told from my parent’s point of view…it was definitely a trip for them. They were the ones making the sandwiches and organizing the sleeping spots. They listened to all of us complain that we were hungry, thirsty, tired, uncomfortable, hot, bored…etc. They kept their patience pretty well as we sung the fiftieth verse of “100 Bottles of Pop on the Wall” and played the twentieth game of “Car Bingo”. It’s no wonder why they got us to the hotel pool about a nanosecond after we dropped our bags in the room; we’d play with each other and leave them alone for a few minutes…until we wanted them to “watch me dive mom!” They were ALWAYS with us.
One person’s trip is another person's vacation, and either way, they make for great stories and perfect memories. I can’t wait until next summer when we drive the kids to Utah and to visit some of the National Parks. It will be a grand vacation for the family, and a grand trip for me.
Margaret
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Life Lessons...
I don’t remember what started it. I think it was when Jessica, my oldest, came home from kindergarten crying. I wasn’t expecting the cliques, clubs and cruelty to start so soon, yet, there I was, listening to my 6 year old explain that she couldn’t play on the slide that day because her name didn’t start with an “M”. I listened to her patiently. I held her tightly. I asked her how she felt, what she did, and what she was going to do tomorrow. We talked about strategies and options. We guessed about why those little girls might have acted that way; “Maybe their mommy’s haven’t taught them how to be nice to everyone”, I offered. “Maybe they’re just mean”, she replied. When Jessica was calm, and all was temporarily well, it happened; “remember how this feels honey, and don’t ever make anyone else feel that way”; it was the first of many life lessons.
I don’t know if I was trying to find the good in the bad, or just filling the silence and hurt with something more positive, but it caught on. When we moved to a new town the summer before Jessica’s second grade, we had hopes for a new start with a new group of classmates. But the life lessons continued. “Maybe those girls have all been friends for a long time, and just don’t know how to meet new kids”. Followed closely with, “remember how this feels and be sure to sit by the next new student at lunch, and smile at her in the hall”. We shared lessons about the lunchroom, recess, parties, ballgames, clothes, sleepovers, attitudes, and friendships.
When Jack started kindergarten a few years later, I listened as Jessica told him about school “…be nice to everyone because it feels bad when kids are mean”. I was so proud of her! All my kiddos have been privy to listening to my views of what’s important in life. When no one wanted to race Max at recess, we talked about how fun it is to win…for the winner, not necessarily for the loser. I questioned him as to whether he would want to keep racing someone if he lost every single time. Max quit begging kids to race him, and even tripped a time or two and lost. “I wanted my friends to feel good mom.” Now, I don’t advocate losing on purpose, or not trying your best, but his action was about the other boy’s feelings, and self-esteem. You can’t argue with that motive!
I will admit that there have been down-sides to my lesson sharing. Sometimes the kids felt like I didn’t support them “You always stick up for the other kid”, they would say, “Can’t you just listen without adding in a lesson. Can’t you just be mad?” I had to explain that it wasn’t about taking sides, it was about growing and learning and looking at situations from different perspectives. Believe it or not, our world isn’t always about us – it’s about all the people with whom we come in contact, it’s about all the things we think and hear and say; it’s about who we are when making tough decisions, it’s about what we do in the face of pressure; and we have to be prepared. My sharing of life lessons is one way of preparing my kids for taking their place in the world. And, I think it’s turned out pretty well.
I’ll admit that I do get upset about events that affect my children. I don’t like when kids are mean and feelings get hurt. I know that oftentimes things are unfair and kids get targeted. I get mad about coaches decisions, rude comments, and mean girls. I dwell on hurtful words uttered in haste, tearful cries of inequality, and unnecessary hateful glares. I understand that teachers sometimes pick on students and classmates cheat and kids lie, but I choose not to share those feelings with my children. I save my complaints and vent to my husband in the privacy of our bedroom. I believe that negativity breeds negativity, and I don’t want to be part of that. I want my kids to hear the proactive side of frustration. I listen to them, love them and accept them. And share life lessons with them…what more could they ask for?
I don’t know if I was trying to find the good in the bad, or just filling the silence and hurt with something more positive, but it caught on. When we moved to a new town the summer before Jessica’s second grade, we had hopes for a new start with a new group of classmates. But the life lessons continued. “Maybe those girls have all been friends for a long time, and just don’t know how to meet new kids”. Followed closely with, “remember how this feels and be sure to sit by the next new student at lunch, and smile at her in the hall”. We shared lessons about the lunchroom, recess, parties, ballgames, clothes, sleepovers, attitudes, and friendships.
When Jack started kindergarten a few years later, I listened as Jessica told him about school “…be nice to everyone because it feels bad when kids are mean”. I was so proud of her! All my kiddos have been privy to listening to my views of what’s important in life. When no one wanted to race Max at recess, we talked about how fun it is to win…for the winner, not necessarily for the loser. I questioned him as to whether he would want to keep racing someone if he lost every single time. Max quit begging kids to race him, and even tripped a time or two and lost. “I wanted my friends to feel good mom.” Now, I don’t advocate losing on purpose, or not trying your best, but his action was about the other boy’s feelings, and self-esteem. You can’t argue with that motive!
I will admit that there have been down-sides to my lesson sharing. Sometimes the kids felt like I didn’t support them “You always stick up for the other kid”, they would say, “Can’t you just listen without adding in a lesson. Can’t you just be mad?” I had to explain that it wasn’t about taking sides, it was about growing and learning and looking at situations from different perspectives. Believe it or not, our world isn’t always about us – it’s about all the people with whom we come in contact, it’s about all the things we think and hear and say; it’s about who we are when making tough decisions, it’s about what we do in the face of pressure; and we have to be prepared. My sharing of life lessons is one way of preparing my kids for taking their place in the world. And, I think it’s turned out pretty well.
I’ll admit that I do get upset about events that affect my children. I don’t like when kids are mean and feelings get hurt. I know that oftentimes things are unfair and kids get targeted. I get mad about coaches decisions, rude comments, and mean girls. I dwell on hurtful words uttered in haste, tearful cries of inequality, and unnecessary hateful glares. I understand that teachers sometimes pick on students and classmates cheat and kids lie, but I choose not to share those feelings with my children. I save my complaints and vent to my husband in the privacy of our bedroom. I believe that negativity breeds negativity, and I don’t want to be part of that. I want my kids to hear the proactive side of frustration. I listen to them, love them and accept them. And share life lessons with them…what more could they ask for?
Friday, October 1, 2010
A Moment of Choice
So, my fourteen year old son, Jack, comes home from school in a playful mood. He tosses his dirty just-ran-five-miles socks at me, keeps ‘accidentally’ bumping into me in the kitchen, shoots water toward me while rinsing his milk glass, and overall exudes a very happy, “let’s play” attitude. He hugs me and refuses to let go, laughing as he pulls me around, trying to make me fall. I know what he wants; he wants me to wrestle around with him, he wants me to pin him down and tickle him, he wants me to be the playful mamma I usually am.
But, today I’m in a “this house is a mess” mood. I’m in a “you were supposed to put your clothes away last night, but didn’t” mood. I’m in a “let’s all pitch in and get this place cleaned up" kind of mood. I know what I want; I want to dust, I want to organize, I want to clean. Needless to say, things weren’t going so great for either of us.
I’ll admit it; I’m a slightly anal, somewhat organized, like-things-in-order type of person. Throw in a type-A personality, a little OCD, and some move-it-over-just-a-tad and you’re got a decent picture of me. Don’t get me wrong, I know how to have fun, I can be spontaneous, I like adventure and action, but I just like to be prepared for it. I was prepared to clean.
I had a choice to make. THIS choice stemmed from another choice that happened years ago. I was in the “work” mode preparing dinner for three little kids, unpacking groceries, picking up toys, putting out fires…and my husband (who usually helps) was sitting, watching our 6 month old play. “I enjoy her so much!” he says. “Enjoy her?” I say out loud, “to me she’s a lot of work”. “You have to enjoy her” he says again,” So, I sat and watched my baby play. She made the cutest faces, she made the sweetest sounds, and she was so innocent. She didn’t care if her dinner was late. She didn’t care if she had a bath, she didn’t care if there were toys all over the room. And, for a few moments, neither did I. Of course, with two other little ones, that sit-and-watch time was short, but it was meaningful. The message was clear; enjoy your children while you have the chance. Don’t miss those moments.
So, while Jack was walking down the hall with an armful of towels, I “accidentally” tripped him, then pinned him down and tickled him. He tried to squirm away, but I grabbed his ankle and pulled him back for a second attack. Madeline joined in and we shared a great moment of surprise, fun, and innocence. One day these kids won’t want to play with me. They won’t want for me to hug them, kiss them and tickle them till they pee. They’re getting strong enough that I may not physically be able to keep them down for much longer anyway. Kids love to play and for some reason, parents forget or choose not to do it with them.
The house still got cleaned…thirty minutes later.
But, today I’m in a “this house is a mess” mood. I’m in a “you were supposed to put your clothes away last night, but didn’t” mood. I’m in a “let’s all pitch in and get this place cleaned up" kind of mood. I know what I want; I want to dust, I want to organize, I want to clean. Needless to say, things weren’t going so great for either of us.
I’ll admit it; I’m a slightly anal, somewhat organized, like-things-in-order type of person. Throw in a type-A personality, a little OCD, and some move-it-over-just-a-tad and you’re got a decent picture of me. Don’t get me wrong, I know how to have fun, I can be spontaneous, I like adventure and action, but I just like to be prepared for it. I was prepared to clean.
I had a choice to make. THIS choice stemmed from another choice that happened years ago. I was in the “work” mode preparing dinner for three little kids, unpacking groceries, picking up toys, putting out fires…and my husband (who usually helps) was sitting, watching our 6 month old play. “I enjoy her so much!” he says. “Enjoy her?” I say out loud, “to me she’s a lot of work”. “You have to enjoy her” he says again,” So, I sat and watched my baby play. She made the cutest faces, she made the sweetest sounds, and she was so innocent. She didn’t care if her dinner was late. She didn’t care if she had a bath, she didn’t care if there were toys all over the room. And, for a few moments, neither did I. Of course, with two other little ones, that sit-and-watch time was short, but it was meaningful. The message was clear; enjoy your children while you have the chance. Don’t miss those moments.
So, while Jack was walking down the hall with an armful of towels, I “accidentally” tripped him, then pinned him down and tickled him. He tried to squirm away, but I grabbed his ankle and pulled him back for a second attack. Madeline joined in and we shared a great moment of surprise, fun, and innocence. One day these kids won’t want to play with me. They won’t want for me to hug them, kiss them and tickle them till they pee. They’re getting strong enough that I may not physically be able to keep them down for much longer anyway. Kids love to play and for some reason, parents forget or choose not to do it with them.
The house still got cleaned…thirty minutes later.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Back To School Blues
OK, I'm not trying to depress anyone here, just calling it like it is...
Well, here I sit on the last day of my kid’s summer vacation. It’s a day I don’t adore; a day I don’t look forward to, a day I wish would never come. It signifies that another year of adventure and growth has come and gone and a new one is about to start. Not that I don’t look forward to new adventure and growth, I do, I’m just never ready for my kids to “grow up” to that next grade level.
Think about it, kids grow up at the end of summers. They go from old 4th graders to new 5th graders. From Jr. High kids to high-school students, from their bedrooms to their college dorm rooms; it all happens at the end of August. This year is no different and I’m not ready.
When I look at my kid’s pictures, I notice that they aren’t frozen moments taken in early January, with the start of a new calendar year; they are taken in early September with the start of a new school year. I notice the differences in their face shapes and sideways grins and wonder how I missed those subtleties that must have occurred right in front of me. Although I’m excited for my children – new friends, new rules, new academic challenges; I’m sad, just a little, for myself. I think back on the events of the last year and realize that I don’t really remember all that much. I make a mental note to take more pictures, say “yes” more often, give hugs and kisses generously (I think I do this pretty well), and pay attention to everything that happens in the next crazy year.
I really should be prepared for this day; each year, there are tell-tale signs that the end of August is nearing. Back-to-School supply areas begin popping up in stores. Kids become anxious about whether they’ll get a top or bottom locker (most like top, by the way). They compare who has what teacher and start requesting specific notebook themes and colors. They may ask questions about whether they should try out for clubs and sports, or hope out-loud that certain kids are in their classes. They may worry that their clothes aren’t cute enough, their hair isn’t long enough, or their jeans aren’t tight enough. They may decide they are ready to wear make-up or request an Oakley backpack. They may let you know that they will be taking their lunch in a brown paper bag – no more lunch-box, or that they will be buying their lunch this year. They may want to carry a purse, or request to take their i-touch on the bus. They may want you to drive them to school so they don’t have to take the bus at all. Your kids might want to stay up later at night, now that they are in an older grade. They might feel the need to have their own yahoo account or their own car. The list could go on and on…children continue to grow and mature and you continue to wonder how they got there so fast.
So as I sit here on the last day of my kids’ summer vacation, I relish the fact that I am still needed. I have shoes to buy, backpacks to locate and schedules to plan. Before I get started on those tasks, however, I am putting a new memory stick in my camera, so I’m prepared for all those changes my kids are about to make.
Well, here I sit on the last day of my kid’s summer vacation. It’s a day I don’t adore; a day I don’t look forward to, a day I wish would never come. It signifies that another year of adventure and growth has come and gone and a new one is about to start. Not that I don’t look forward to new adventure and growth, I do, I’m just never ready for my kids to “grow up” to that next grade level.
Think about it, kids grow up at the end of summers. They go from old 4th graders to new 5th graders. From Jr. High kids to high-school students, from their bedrooms to their college dorm rooms; it all happens at the end of August. This year is no different and I’m not ready.
When I look at my kid’s pictures, I notice that they aren’t frozen moments taken in early January, with the start of a new calendar year; they are taken in early September with the start of a new school year. I notice the differences in their face shapes and sideways grins and wonder how I missed those subtleties that must have occurred right in front of me. Although I’m excited for my children – new friends, new rules, new academic challenges; I’m sad, just a little, for myself. I think back on the events of the last year and realize that I don’t really remember all that much. I make a mental note to take more pictures, say “yes” more often, give hugs and kisses generously (I think I do this pretty well), and pay attention to everything that happens in the next crazy year.
I really should be prepared for this day; each year, there are tell-tale signs that the end of August is nearing. Back-to-School supply areas begin popping up in stores. Kids become anxious about whether they’ll get a top or bottom locker (most like top, by the way). They compare who has what teacher and start requesting specific notebook themes and colors. They may ask questions about whether they should try out for clubs and sports, or hope out-loud that certain kids are in their classes. They may worry that their clothes aren’t cute enough, their hair isn’t long enough, or their jeans aren’t tight enough. They may decide they are ready to wear make-up or request an Oakley backpack. They may let you know that they will be taking their lunch in a brown paper bag – no more lunch-box, or that they will be buying their lunch this year. They may want to carry a purse, or request to take their i-touch on the bus. They may want you to drive them to school so they don’t have to take the bus at all. Your kids might want to stay up later at night, now that they are in an older grade. They might feel the need to have their own yahoo account or their own car. The list could go on and on…children continue to grow and mature and you continue to wonder how they got there so fast.
So as I sit here on the last day of my kids’ summer vacation, I relish the fact that I am still needed. I have shoes to buy, backpacks to locate and schedules to plan. Before I get started on those tasks, however, I am putting a new memory stick in my camera, so I’m prepared for all those changes my kids are about to make.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Life...It Is What It Is
“Mom, do you like your life?”
I froze for a second. I was caught completely off guard. I was in the middle of emptying the dishwasher and explaining to my children (again) why everyone DOES need to pitch-in with daily chores. I had been talking out-loud about the long list of wait-till-the-very-last-possible-moment-to-get-done items, the cost of braces, the impossibility of our activity schedule, and the necessity of dinner.
I look across the counter at the honest, adorable, intent, questioning face of my 10 year-old son. “Well, do you?” he inquired again.
I flashed back to my wedding day, still the happiest day of my life. I saw the quick births of my children, my first house, and my college graduation. I remembered puking babies, sleep deprived nights, screaming car trips, and petty fighting. I saw medical bills, food bills, daycare fees, and house payments. I saw spilled juice on the carpet, pee on the brand new couch, and food stuck in the crevices of the car. I remembered all the diapers, the wipes, the toys, the bottles, the books, the games and the laundry. I had no time for myself, no time for my husband, and no time for my friends. I remembered pretending to sleep, hoping someone else -anyone else - would go get the crying child. Now the youngest of those crying children is 10, and asking me if I liked my life.
A sudden rush of emotion came over me. I remembered all the grins, giggles, laughing, dancing, singing and being silly. I remembered family pictures, Christmas cards, bike rides, campfires, coloring, play-doh, finger-paint, swim lessons, back yard kick-ball, hide-and-seek, and bedtime monsters. I remembered the smells of freshly baked cookies and freshly bathed kids. I relived daily routines, butterfly kisses, bedtime stories, prayers, confessions, and finally silence. I remembered school programs, sports practices, piano lessons, birthday parties, Halloween costumes, Christmas mornings, sleep-overs, zoo trips, and snuggle time.
I remember discussions about what Big Bird might eat for breakfast, why grown-ups got to stay up late, and why cookies aren’t a meal. More recently they include curfew, driving, dating, sexting, parties, cliques, trips, manners, attitude, behavior, grades, and daily chores. It may not be what I had planned it to be, but…
“Yes” I said, “I love my life”.
Margaret
I froze for a second. I was caught completely off guard. I was in the middle of emptying the dishwasher and explaining to my children (again) why everyone DOES need to pitch-in with daily chores. I had been talking out-loud about the long list of wait-till-the-very-last-possible-moment-to-get-done items, the cost of braces, the impossibility of our activity schedule, and the necessity of dinner.
I look across the counter at the honest, adorable, intent, questioning face of my 10 year-old son. “Well, do you?” he inquired again.
I flashed back to my wedding day, still the happiest day of my life. I saw the quick births of my children, my first house, and my college graduation. I remembered puking babies, sleep deprived nights, screaming car trips, and petty fighting. I saw medical bills, food bills, daycare fees, and house payments. I saw spilled juice on the carpet, pee on the brand new couch, and food stuck in the crevices of the car. I remembered all the diapers, the wipes, the toys, the bottles, the books, the games and the laundry. I had no time for myself, no time for my husband, and no time for my friends. I remembered pretending to sleep, hoping someone else -anyone else - would go get the crying child. Now the youngest of those crying children is 10, and asking me if I liked my life.
A sudden rush of emotion came over me. I remembered all the grins, giggles, laughing, dancing, singing and being silly. I remembered family pictures, Christmas cards, bike rides, campfires, coloring, play-doh, finger-paint, swim lessons, back yard kick-ball, hide-and-seek, and bedtime monsters. I remembered the smells of freshly baked cookies and freshly bathed kids. I relived daily routines, butterfly kisses, bedtime stories, prayers, confessions, and finally silence. I remembered school programs, sports practices, piano lessons, birthday parties, Halloween costumes, Christmas mornings, sleep-overs, zoo trips, and snuggle time.
I remember discussions about what Big Bird might eat for breakfast, why grown-ups got to stay up late, and why cookies aren’t a meal. More recently they include curfew, driving, dating, sexting, parties, cliques, trips, manners, attitude, behavior, grades, and daily chores. It may not be what I had planned it to be, but…
“Yes” I said, “I love my life”.
Margaret
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