While I was out with a friend this morning, the boys’ dentist called and asked if we could come in 20 minutes early to help with a scheduling hiccup. By the time I got the message, I knew we would have to hoof it to be there at the new time, but I called back and said yes, anyway. Unfortunately, when I told the kids, Mr. 15 said “yes” with his mouth but not with his brain, and hopped into the shower at the last minute. We managed to make it, but I dropped the boys at the door so that they could go in while I parked.
When I got in, Mr. 13 was already in with the hygienist. I love that my kids are independent enough to handle moments like this on their own. Just a few minutes later, Mr. 15 was called; he loped into the back, trailing after a different hygienist. I settled back to enjoy a little quiet time.
As I played a game on my phone, another mother came in with her two boys who rushed ahead of her to the receptionist’s desk. “Hello,” she chirped at them, “Who have we here?”
A small voice said, “Johnny Bear” and everyone chuckled. I looked up to catch the younger boy, maybe 6, holding his stuffie over his head so that the bear could “see” the receptionist. His mother ruffled his hair, grinned at the women behind the desk, and gave their names. The trio moved into the waiting room and the younger boy snuggled up next to his mother.
Oh, I miss those days, I thought.
Just then, the older boy – maybe 8 – made a snide comment under his breath. His mother heard, and snapped at him. He slumped in his seat, pouting. The water cooler bubbled and suddenly Mr. 6 really wanted a paper cone of water. Then his brother did, too. Mom heaved a sigh and asked, “Do you really want the water, or do you just want it because you heard the bubbles?” Mr. 6 assured her that he really wanted the water. Mr. 8 grumbled.
Mom stood up and got some water for the six-year-old. More mumbly-grumble from the eight-year-old. “What?” she asked.
“I said I want to do it myself. I want water AND I want to do it myself.”
Mom looked from the younger boy, holding the fragile cone of water, to the older boy, arms folded stubbornly across his small chest. “Ok,” she said, “Can you wait for me to come watch?”
He jumped up from his seat, ran to the cooler, pulled off a paper cone cup and waited for his mom. She watched carefully until she said, “and that’s enough!”
Delighted with himself, he sat back down to taste his independence. Mom turned back to her youngest, who had not, in fact, spilled any water. Just as she sat again, the hygienist came out and called one of their names. She heaved a deep sigh, gathered first one child, then the next. She took the now-empty paper cones and threw them out as they all trooped into the back together, Mr. 6 clutching Johnny Bear in one arm.
Nope, I thought, I don’t think I miss those days that much after all.
Persistence and Pedagogy 
I’m bringing Adi to the dentist tomorrow. When bringing multiple kids, I can relate more to the other mom. I’m not wishing away the chaos, but I am hoping for a drama free dentist visit tomorrow!
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Oh, I hope for drama-free for you, too!
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oh, friend. Me, neither. Me, neither. I LOVE having big conversations with my big kids. I like the letting go to be honest. It’s not easy, but it’s good.
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I liked them when they were little, too – it’s just so different now – and I like it. I suspect I will also like the big conversations that are coming.
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Amanda,
This is a bittersweet story. As young moms we’re so tired that we’re anxious for time to pass. Then we miss those days. Now, as granna I get the best of both worlds, only not often enough. And have I told you lately what an amazing storyteller you are?
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Thanks, Glenda! That’s exactly what I was going for: there’s real cuteness & wonder when they’re little, but we’re so tired. And then they get older and it’s different. I’ve spent my whole life as a mother trying to remember to be in the moment I’m actually in.
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I agree with Glenda – you have quite a talent for storytelling. You paint a lovely picture with yoru words.
I’m like you. On some days I am happy that we have reached a pretty high level of independence and I don’t have to pack everyone up every time I want to run to the store for milk! On other days I miss our life when they were little. Their lives were so much less complicated even though mine was more complicated. Now we have friend drama and school drama all the time! The best part of this week at home has been not having that stress constantly in our background.
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Oh! The packing everyone up for every errand! I don’t miss that at all. At this exact moment we are low on drama. I know it won’t last, so I’m trying to enjoy – and to not get too frustrated at the fights about screen time. Sigh.
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John Kabat-Zinn refers to parenting as ‘the full catastrophe’ and I think this captures it all. Not solely a negative connotation, more that you get it all as parents – the moments of conflict, exasperation, annoyance. It’s the hardest job and therefore also brings the most powerful joy. Thanks for the insight!
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What a great phrase – “the full catastrophe”. That’s exactly it, isn’t it? Family life means all the moments, not just the good ones, and that’s part of what makes it so powerful. Thanks for sharing that.
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