My kids are growing. Soon they’ll enter the "grown years", when mothers become a barely tolerated presence in their kids’ lives. All we're gonna be good for is food, cash, and transportation. With that in mind, I’m trying like hell to enjoy the time I’ve got left in the "little kid" years.
And I do enjoy a lot of it. I love that my kids still rely on goodnight hugs, kisses, and stories read aloud in order to fall asleep. I do. It’s too bad that this special time always comes at the end of the day when my nerves are frayed and my wine is downstairs waiting for me with the promise of peace and quiet.
I love that my kids still crave my approval and I know I’ll miss it when they no longer need or want my attention. But really, I just can’t get interested in what you accomplished in your kindle game and the fact that song you’re singing was cute, an hour ago.
These little kid years are fleeting and all the magic that comes with them is but a moment in our children’s lives. As parents we know this so we try to drink up all the magic, and create even more by putting our children in situations where there will be more and more and more magic. Our little kids’ wonder is our drug.
We bring our children on dreamy kid vacations so we can see that look on their faces – the one of pure wonder and joy that only little kids have. And we get it. We get that moment and our hearts fill, our cups runneth over, and we gain the emotional fortitude it takes not to strangle them when they’re falling apart a few minutes later, throwing epic fits born of over stimulation, exhaustion, and too much sunshine. We get our fill of the magic, and we don’t commit murder when they cry from hunger, freak out, and complain the entire car ride home.
As with so many of the lovely things in life, little-kidhood is a two-sided coin. One side is full of giggles, cuddles, and wonder. It’s all enthusiasm. It’s witnessing a person encounter a firefly for the first time, or a shooting star. It’s understanding that there is no greater thing than s’mores, a snow day, or a rainbow. The other side is quite the opposite. If a day can be the “best day ever!” because of a lollipop, likewise, it can be the worst because of green beans touching potatoes. A sibling can be a best friend, and a mortal enemy vying for the love of the people who should only have eyes for you.
This tricky coin flips easily and many times per day. Anything can flip it. There are known triggers that we parents work hard to mitigate: hunger, fatigue, over stimulation, errands, lines, frustration, transition, waiting 5 more minutes for anything, but especially dinner. It can flip back just as easily. We parents live our lives by this fickle coin.
I’m trying hard to relish the waning years of little-kidness remaining to me. I marinate in morning snuggles and sweetness, which helps me manage later-morning attitude. I exalt moments of sibling playfulness, full of princess dresses, super hero antics, and astonishing imagination. This helps me through sibling fights full of yelling, hitting, and inevitable crying. I cherish childish mispronunciations and misunderstandings. Mostly, I have to be actively mindful of my limited time in this space. My kids are getting bigger. I have to get all the cuddles now.
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