The kids are grown, and not so much in the area any more. I miss them. Yesterday, Bill had a post on his blog that brought tears to my eyes. I think that kids in little footed sleepers are just about the cutest thing on the face of the earth, even cuter than puppies and kittens.
My children have long outgrown the footed sleepers, and sometimes I get misty eyed remembering little voices, and the sweetness of children, the little voices, little scraps of songs, and conversations. Dylan had 'dandelion hair' that would poof up. Brianna had a tendency to make her own words. 'Forleft' was one of them. 'Forleft' was a marriage of words, used for the times when she forgot something and left it at home. It was forleft. I remember what a placid baby Cara was, and how I'd slice up peaches for her, and set them on the tray of her high chair while I cooked supper, and she'd happily sit there eating and smiling. These memories make me smile.
I think it is interesting that these are the sort of memories that spring forth when I start reminscing. I don't remember things like the time that Cara began to chant 'dog poop' in the middle of a sermon at church, or the fact that Dylan screamed from six weeks to six months, and no one could figure out why. I don't remember the time that Brianna learned a new word. Boogersnatcher. And she was so pleased with that word that she called every one boogersnatcher everywhere we went. Temper tantrums in public places. I don't remember the fighting over toys.
Edit after morning shower: Now that I'm thinking of it, allow me to add to my little list of things that don't come to memory right away ~ like the time a child forgot a toy for show and tell and improvised. The 'tell' was about her mother having her tubes tied. And there was the boy who, as soon as he turned 18 simply walked into the office at school, changed his home address to a PO box, thereby eliminating the fuss his mom put up everytime that she got a letter from the school. Those letters went to his mail box and he was thus assured that his mother never heard a discouraging word. And then there is the time... well... never mind. (*deep cleansing breath*) You know what? It's better that I remember the sweet little memories of them in their footed PJs.
Yep. Being a parent is not easy.
You know, I saw something that made me cheer. I was in the store and I heard a little kid screaming like there was no tomorrow. His mother told him that he didn't need whatever it was that he was after. He was hopping mad. "I want it! I want it!" He screamed long and loud, jumping up and down like a little Rumpelstiltskin. His mother placidly said, "You got a toy yesterday. You don't get a new toy every day." He said, "I don't like the toy I got yesterday." His mother said, "You played with it all day long." And she headed for the checkout line as he trailed behind her, screaming his head off in frustration. She quickly paid for her purchases and headed for the door, telling her angry boy, "Come on, we're leaving now," as he shrieked, "I'm not going until I get a toy." Without ever raising her voice, without showing any sign of anger, she simply said, "Well, I'm leaving now. Goodbye." And out the door she went. One wide eyed boy stood there, shocked silent for the moment. He then wailed "Waaaaaaaait!" and went out the automatic doors. His mother was there, and they had another bit of a squabble until he finally agreed to give her his hand as they went across the parking lot.
Everyone in that store watched this little drama unfold with some amount of amusement. Every single one of us had probably 'been there, done that', as the saying goes. I said, "You know, I have to say it did my heart good to see that. Usually, you see parents getting rattled and upset at the child, or worse yet, simply giving in and giving the child what he wants to shush him." And the crowded checkout line rumbled in agreement.
And suddenly, each of us wanted to rush after that mother to tell her 'Good job!'
I hope she reads blogs.