A distinctly different childhood

My husband and I took our children out hiking today, in the local state park. And I do mean local, because it’s 5 minutes away. What a blessing to live so close to nature at its best. The park is relatively big by east coast standards, with multiple entrances. The furthest one, I believe, is more than 20 minutes away.

But I digress. 

The section of the park, closest to our house, hosts a stream and a trail that takes you past a waterfall. The waterfall itself is pretty, and worth the trip, but the stream is by far the best part. After a moderate amount of rain, it flows nicely with a relatively slow current. The rocks are stable enough to walk on safely if you watch your footing and the water isn’t ridiculously cold. Just cold enough to offset the heat of a humid day. Perfection. 

We arrived after lunch and took the kids up the slope to the waterfall. They thought it was cool, but weren’t satisfied. They wanted to keep climbing up, and were undeterred by the need to wade through the water to reach the subsequent section of the trail. So, with 8 wet feet, we continued onward and upward. By my husband’s estimation using the map, we traveled approximately one mile each way and heard little to no complaints. At times the water was waist or chest deep for the kids, either because of their height or because they slipped and fell into the water while walking. They laughed. Yes, you read it correctly. They laughed, reached for an adult hand to get back up and kept on going. 

Words cannot express how proud this made me.

The comedy of the day came when my daughter proclaimed (loudly, as I was more than 100 yards away), that she had to pee and started pulling down her pants. I had explained to her, at the start of the walk, that she couldn’t poop in the water but she could pee. And that she should, if she felt the need. I grinned at the lady next to me, and stated “That’s my girl”. Then I went to help her. It was awesome. We have hopes for her peeing in the woods. 

This was not my childhood. Now, don’t get me wrong. I am not criticizing my parents, in any way, shape or form. My parents did a wonderful job exposing me to a wonderful and adventurous world. They took my brother and I traveling all over the world and exposed us to art, music and culture. They sent us to camps that focused on our passions and paid for my dance and my brother’s sports. As a parent, I now know just how expensive these hobbies are and how hard my parents had to work to make sure we had these opportunities. I was afforded the opportunity to study overseas three times between the ages of 16 and 24.  When I was 13 years old, my mother took me to New York City to see Baryshnikov dance.  We went to see the Nutcracker more times than I can count. 

I was a lucky kid. 

But adventurous, outdoor activities were not on my agenda as a kid. And that’s ok. My kids, however, will have a childhood full of outdoors and adventure. They will get wet and dirty, on a regular basis, and their memories of the process that made them that way will be nostalgic. I think that’s wonderful and I feel very content that I play a role in ensuring that this continues. 

I guess that’s what it means to be a parent. I like it.