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.
Nikola brought his first rock home. I feel like this is a stage every kid goes through. Right? At some point, children just become little geologists for an unspecified amount of time.
There’s no warning, it just happens one day. And their cups runneth over with pride at their procured find. While nothing distinctive to the adult eye sets it apart from the others that liter the yard, a child sees something special. It’s theirs.
As a parent, you may get weighed down from carrying a mini gravel pit in your pocket. And stupidly, selfishly, you may off-load some of these rocks. But make no mistake – if you pick up another to replace one of “theirs” they will know. Undoubtedly, somehow they will know that there’s an imposter amongst the group. Which more often than not causes them to cascade into fits of despair.
Their rock; their thing that they found and chose all on their own – is gone. And when you put it that way, it actually is quite sad.
Nikola is about to turn 3. And these milestones keep coming. They are bittersweet. He’s growing up, and doing all the typical growing up things that children do. Collecting rocks is just one of them.
And so for now, I promise that whatever he choses to collect; whatever items he wants to amass, I will let it be his. Perhaps one day we’ll have enough to start our own Hardscaping business. Who knows.
In the meantime, I just have to remember to start checking his pockets before doing the laundry.
I am absolutely, 100% certain that Parkour was accidentally invented by parents of a toddler as a joke. And somehow it just…caught on.
Have you ever just sat and observed a toddler in their natural habitat?
I gaze upon my son stumbling, rolling, jumping, crawling, hopping, and most often of all, falling and it just amazes me.
I mean, for one, the energy that he exudes is enviable to say the least. My god! The things I could get done with just an ounce of it.
But the uncertainty is what really amazes me- I don’t think that there is any predetermined end point. There is no well conceived plan as to what “obstacle” he’ll tackle next. He just gets after it.
Pillow on the couch?
Maybe he’ll jump over it. Maybe he’ll grab it and roll around with it. Maybe he’ll use it as an catapult, a shitty one, but one nonetheless, to his next landing spot, where he will launch himself onto another hard to semi-hard surface.
I have sent myself into many a coughing fit by the frequency and ferocity of my audible gasps. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph” is a constant whisper in the house.
And for the most part, they are all the same. All toddlers. I’m around many, and they are just….wild…. To different degrees of course, but each of them has it in them. Somehow, somewhere,. Perhaps it’s well hidden. Incognito mode can only be maintained for so long before they go rogue. It is uncontained, uncontrived and absolutely effing nuts…
“Alexa, order ice packs”