Parenting Truths

When asked why I never share how hard parenting is with new parents, I laugh. Often I respond that it is against the rules to share this information with anyone other than parents. What parents know could end the continuation of our species.

I say this in fun because I empathize with parents. Being a parent is not exactly like the diaper and formula commercials on television. Around the clock feedings and fussy babies are exhausting. Parents have to change their lives to appease their baby’s schedule. .

However, there is a far more important secret of parenthood. Unless you are a parent it is likely you will remain unmoved after hearing it. I will tell it anyway.

The truth of parenting reveals itself when you tuck your children in at night.

Our bedtime rituals mend my tired spirit and give me time to reflect on what is good in my life. After baths is when I am in parental bliss. It is our family’s quiet time together.

With two children in my lap and a child sitting beside me I feel like this is the only place I need to be. I bury my nose into freshly shampooed hair and help brush pearly white teeth. Unasked for kisses and hugs are liberally given by my clean and happy three.

We read story books together. First readers are read to me. Songs are sung and nursery rhymes are recited.

Being a mother or a father is not easy. As with anything worthwhile it can be challenging. Having children provides a way for adults to see as children do, but with the insight of being grown up. Parenting is an opportunity we seize to grow even more.

Tucking my children safely into bed and kissing their noses … for me this is happiness. It is a promise of unconditional love and the sacred privilege of parenthood. For the rest of my days I cannot aspire to be more fulfilled than this.

The picture is of Donovan when he was 6 months old. Awwwwww, those days seem a long time ago.

Too Busy!

Ben has a new phrase when he’s tired of walking. If you ask me, it is taking the old saying, “stop and smell the roses” too far.

When he tires of walking around a store, zoo, or park he sighs. Then he reaches for me. With exhausted inflection he says, “Momma, I’m too busy to walk.” Then he flops to the ground expecting to be carried.

Looking at my watch I remember he’s not had a nap. Lately naps are as much a chore for the kids as it is for me. Often for the sake of peace we skip nap time.

His eyes look droopy and he is sucking his fingers. Both good indications he is ready for napping. Maybe today is the one day this week it will happen.

Home again I prompt him. “Take off your shoes and let’s go upstairs. You can take a short nap.”

Ben begins running around in circles. “I’m too busy to nap.”

A little perspective changes everything.

Security Breach

Lightening and thunder surrounded our home last night. Safely tucked into bed we did not notice. It was just rain, nothing more.

Stepping outside in the morning I wondered if something was missing. Our porch looked emptier. Shrugging, I helped our kids into the car.

Pulling out of our driveway I noticed a police officer standing beside a car with a busted window. Shattered glass littered the street. A distraught woman stood next to him with her arms crossed.

Nodding away curiosity I continued driving. The kids were dropped off at their schools and I arrived on time to work. It was a routine Wednesday.

Home again I meet Brett at the door. He works nights and sleeps during the day. Staring across the porch he pointed, “Do you notice something is missing?”

I shrug. “It looks like something is missing but …. Oh, no!” Gasping I point to the eerily empty place.

“Oh, yes!” Brett knelt beside a useless lock. “Someone stole the lawn mower.”

I exhale sharply. “Not again. This is the second time in five years. Crimminy!”

“They couldn't’t wait until winter. I still have a lawn that needs mowed.” Brett tosses the lock.

Instantly my thoughts wandered to my children and I suddenly felt vulnerable. Last night while we were sleeping someone came onto our porch and stole our mower. Lightening and thunder masked any bumps in the night.

Brett filed a police report. They mentioned there have been several reported thefts lately in our area. A patrolman would be sent to cover the area at night. Of course we’ll never get our mower back.

Forget the mower. I want my sense of security back.

It was scary enough when our mower was stolen from our garage before the kids were born. Mowers can be replaced. I want to know that my children are always safe.

Callie Sized

Running behind on a list of errands I stopped at school to pick up Callie. My watch said 2:30. The schedule taped to the wall reads “snack time”.

Confidently I walk to Callie’s classroom and knock on the door. “I’m here to pick up Callie.”

The teacher presents me with a pretty Asian girl also named Callie. “Here she is.”

I kindly smile into the girl’s startled eyes. “She is adorable but she’s not mine. Where is my Callie?”

Trying to appear in control the teacher hides an embarrassed gasp. “Well, this is the only Callie I have …”

This is not Callie’s regular teacher. I shove down an immediate feeling of annoyance and try again. “Callie Middleton is in this classroom. She’s my daughter. Maybe she’s still taking a nap. Is there another room where the children sleep?”

A small girl offers a loud “ah-ha” and looks very grown up. “You mean the little Callie. She is a napper. We, in here, are no-nappers.”

“Oh, yes!” Recovering, the teacher offers an apologetic smile. “Your daughter is down the hall. Turn left into the room beside the office, and you’ll find her.”

I assured her it was an honest mistake and everything was fine.

When I find Callie she runs into my arms and hugs my neck. “Hi, Momma!”

“Hi, Sweetie.”

She kisses my cheek. “Momma, where is Donovan?”

“Well, Callie I picked him up earlier. He is sick.”

She wraps her legs around my waist and insists I carry her.

I can tell she is upset Donovan is not with her. Knowing this I still address my concern over her classmates identifying her by size. “Your friends tell me you’re “Little Callie”.

Tossing her pigtails she sympathetically pats me on the head. She giggles. “No way. I’m “Big Callie”.

I stand corrected and admire my daughter’s spunk.