Category: parenting

Easier

I have been told by a friend that things get easier. As the kids get older, things will be easier. Time will be easier, days will be easier. I have awaited this foretold lore with bated breath. I believe I am on the cusp.

I have always relied on the method of corralling when it comes to being the parent of two toddlers. When the kids start acting like a couple of feral cats. When they are running around with reckless abandon. That will, 100% of the time, end in someone needing an ice pack. When they pervade our main level living quarters with the tactical presence of Seal Team 6. Well, that’s when I have no other option. The corralling requires my direct and active participation to tamper the situation.

A table strewn with brand new play doh their little eyes have never seen. The allure of markers is also captivating (some) of the time. A bath, a game, tablets (don’t judge me), cooking, playing in their room, magnatiles, exploring buckets of toys we haven’t looked at in awhile and literally anything else I can think up when we are in the absolute thick of it.

These times of chaos are shifting. In the slightest of ways I see it. It is bittersweet. The need for less and less corralling. I first noticed it a few months ago. My kids were in a room playing, quietly, and I wasn’t in there with them. I wasn’t in the doorway watching. I wasn’t on the floor helping. I was in the other room, sitting on the edge of my seat, eyes wide, mouthing the words “are they playing?!?” to my husband. I didn’t move. Scared that any sound made would elicit a request from the other room. I took it all in.

I’ve been told that I am a “helicopter parent.” I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t hurtful. But these kids we have, are only kids for so long. And even though some days are hard. So hard that at the end of the day, when they’ve finally exhausted themselves into a near comatose state; you exhale. And that exhale is so deep with so many levels that you wonder if perhaps you’ve gone the entire day without exhaling all the way out.

Their quiet playing only lasted a few minutes but there it was. The “easier” that I was told about. They didn’t need corralling. They didn’t need me. Right then, in that moment. They had themselves and each other and it was enough. There is going to come a day when they don’t say “momma, come play with me.” When they say instead “I’m going to play with friends.” or *gasps* “I don’t need you right now.” And it seems like I’ll need to start preparing for it now.

Reminders

Every day it’s something. Old Easter candy on a shelf or Facebooks thoughtful, yet careless “memories”. Everywhere you look, there is something that reminds us of moments passed.

Those moments, at one time, were plans. They were a holiday or a special occasion that we looked forward to. Something we were mentally preparing for. Getting excited about. All marked on our calendars with anticipation for its inevitable arrival.

And then it passes. We barely have time to clean up the wrapping paper or go through the photographs before we are on to the next.

And I think that’s what parenting is in a way. Not all the time, but seemingly most. We are present for all the things, and in a single breath, our minds go to the future. Sometimes only returning to the past when given a reminder to do so.

We have had a very special day marked on our calendar since February. This Friday, my four year old will be attending a Pre-K Screening. With an incredibly limited allotment of slots (I believe 16!) and several dozen 4 year olds applying, the odds aren’t in our favor. He desperately wants to go “to school.” He goes to preschool now at a daycare but he knows there is something different about Pre-K. I think it’s the bus ride.

I imagine this feeling of anxiety and anticipation will be the same when it’s time for college. Perhaps this Pre-K thing will prepare me for those feelings. And while the college days are far in our future, maybe this blog post will be my reminder. A reminder that if I can emotionally make it through this time of transition. This time of acknowledging that my oldest, is in fact, growing up. That big things are happening, and in turn, passing. Well then, maybe I’ll be able to remember that everything will be ok.