I was shopping in Target today. The cart had a few items in it and we were in search of more. My daughter was walking nicely next to me. My son, sat in the top of the cart, was screaming at full volume. He was seriously pissed off at me. I followed through on my “promise” to take away his letter stickers (not yet purchased) if he didn’t get off the floor and walk like a big boy.
Sigh.
As I passed by an older woman, she glanced up at the
approaching noise. She looked at my son, then at me. She noticed my calm and
vaguely annoyed facial posture and my daughter’s total lack of interest or concern
for her brother’s noise pollution. The
woman made eye contact with me. I shrugged. She sighed. “I’m glad those days
are done for me.” She commented.
Frequently those comments irritate me. They feel like a
gloating of sorts. A smug reminder that others have survived it and now it’s YOUR
turn to survive the initiation. A snide “good luck”. Sometimes it feels
downright insulting, insinuating that your children aren’t good or that you are
doing something wrong. This woman, however, did not illicit this reaction from
me and I can’t quite tell you why. Maybe it was the quiet sympathy in her
voice. Maybe it was the total and utter lack of judgment, for the fact that I
was totally ignoring the screaming.
Or maybe it was because she’s right. I will not miss this element of my children’s
current age.
I will miss many day to day components of my life with my
children right now. I will miss the belly laughs that I hear from the basement
as my kids play and watch TV. I will miss the sloppy kisses at bedtime. I will
miss the hours spent cuddling and reading together. I will miss the never
ending desire to create original songs while we drive in the car and giggle
infested “that’s not right” I hear when I’m done with the newest creation. Oh, and the request for the next song that
comes immediately after. I will even miss the way they look when they are
finished eating pasta, looking more like they bathed in it than ate it.
But I won’t miss the toddler tantrums. My guess is that
nobody will ever mourn the disappearance of that particular behavior.
My neighbors just had a little baby, a gorgeous little girl.
She is their blessing. Their light at the end of a long tunnel. The one they
have always yearned for. And they are so very happy to meet her. But they are
exhausted, and she’s only a week old. It seems that they are now pleased to get
3 straight hours of sleep! I remember those days.
When I talked to
them, I was reminded of the fog that invaded the first months of parenthood. I
resisted the urge to say “I’m glad those days are done for me” when I spoke to
them, because it was unnecessary. But it would have been true. I love the way babies taste when you kiss
them. I love the way their little toes curl when they cry and I love the way
they smile at the world around them at moments of happiness and serenity. But I
DO NOT miss the days of strollers, especially when getting in and out of the
car. I don’t miss getting up 2-3 times a night and I certainly don’t miss not
being able to ask my kids what’s wrong.
It’s only been 3 years, yet it feels like an eternity ago. A
different lifetime.
You know, Vintage.
Every phase of parenthood is challenging in its own way. As soon as we say, "Man, I'm glad to be done ith that one" an equally terrifying phase is on its heels. I, too, look forward to tantrum free shopping trips.
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