One thing that I like about summer is that I have a lot of
time to think about things other than all the things I have to get done during
the day. There is plenty of time to get
everything done and nothing has to be done right then. It is a nice thing to experience. A normal person would really give into the
relaxation and just become languid and fluid and be. However, that normal
person is not me. I take this time to
really focus all my worry and concern on one or two special topics I have may
have ignored during the year. Previous
years have seen me angsting over whether or not I would ever find a job
combined with wide-awake worry wondering if this is the year that the A/C
finally gives up. I also like to flush
out those unresolved issues I’ve tucked into the dark recesses of my mind and
replay embarrassing scenarios from my youth.
I could clean the house, but I prefer unearthing dusty memories packed
in cobwebs and shame.
 |
| Right here is where I like to keep how I misspelled rutabaga and lost the 5th grade spelling bee. |
This summer, I have focused my penchant for worry and
obsessive thoughts onto two things: fitness and how big my kids are
getting. I have a lot of words about
fitness and nutrition, but I think they will take up their own post and the big
kids are really weighing on my heart, so they go first.
I have found over the last year or so that I am that creepy
old woman who smiles at babies and toddlers and even comments out loud how
adorable they are. I watch the little
kids swim next door and hear their happy laughs and splashes and sigh. Not because I want a small child of my own, but
I think because it feels like it has been so long since my kids were
little. When they came in the house with
a sweaty head that smelled like sunshine and puppies and tag and didn’t make me
recoil and say things like “Shower!” or “You stink!” Now I cannot even put a name to the odor that
emanates from the boy’s room. I just
open the door, shoot some Febreeze in there and close it before it can infect
the rest of the house.
At sixteen and fourteen, these kids of mine are adult-ish
every day. Oh, I know there is a lot of
parenting to go here, but I am looking at them and seeing adults more than
kids. The boy is huge. Giant.
He is a man-sized child living in my house. Eating all the food, taking up all the room
on the furniture, leaving giant shoes everywhere for us to trip on and
flexing. So much flexing. But it is not just physical; it is how they
handle situations or their dry, obnoxious humor. Or the fact that we can have prolonged,
intelligent conversations about things other than video games and horses. And that they are really getting interesting
and I seek them out to see what they think rather than hide in my closet for
just two seconds alone. This stage of
parenting seems to be a lot of waiting, followed by helping to extinguish the
fires of a teen crisis, followed by more waiting, a whole lot of talking, more
waiting and plenty of time to sit and wait and think.
This week, the girl got her permit. We are late to the game here as many of her
friends are already driving, but we weren’t in a hurry. Teaching a kid to drive really sucks! It is hard to explain what she should do
based on something I do and never think about.
I made weird “Oooh-ooh-AHHH” noises that I haven’t heard since my mother
made those noises as I was learning to drive. It was an eye-opening day, and I
realized that not only did I step out of the driver’s seat and into the
passenger seat of the Prius, but in her life as well. I am not longer buckling her up and taking
her where she needs to go. For now, I
get to sit alongside her and watch as she decides what to do. I can offer advice, suggestions and my
thoughts, but I am not moving her forward, she is. I can say “Watch for this”, “Be careful here”
and make all the ooh-ooh-AHH noises, but ultimately, she decides what she is
going to do. It is pretty amazing and
humbling to realize that this is where we are in her life now. It makes me ooh and ahh and sigh over
babies. It makes me want to adopt a cat
with crossed eyes because it reminds me of the boy when he was little. It made me crow over Jack-Jack in Incredibles 2 to the point where Bill
leaned over and asked if my milk had let down.
This whole stage of parenting makes me a little nostalgic and a little nervous and a little sad
over how fast the other stages have gone by. It
also makes me glad that I have the summer to realize all of this, obsess about it properly and prepare my
heart for how quickly the rest will go too.
