Minor Epiphany

So, the kids had President’s Week and I have to admit–it passed sort of quietly.

Each kid made plans to hang with their friends on different days, and I took Squish shopping–and then, so did her sister– and generally, I did my usual thing. (Hampered a little, admittedly, by all the activity in the living room in the morning. And people. People were TALKING to me. It was disorienting.)

And I felt BAD about that.

And Mate and I were talking–I was like, “I remember we used to scramble. We’d go to Old Sac, we’d go to art museums, we’d go to the zoo. Anything– anything but have the kids sit at home.”

Mate was like, “They’re just so… I don’t know. Content. It’s weird.”

And I said, “Yeah–but then…”

And this is where it hit me.

“We wouldn’t know so much about the older kids. When they were this age, we had the younger kids to occupy, and they came with us. Maybe they would have done this too–just become, you know, self-sufficient.”

And it was sort of mind-blowing. I thought I’d gotten used to the idea that my kids were getting older, and they needed me less–but you forget how much you need them– to keep you busy, to force you out of your comfort zone and into the world, to make you go see the world through their eyes so you can see the good parts.

We were having this conversation on the way to pick up Big T, who comes home to do laundry twice a month, and Mate said, “You know, we just have to make a plan. We used to be so good at just going, ‘Gonna go here!’ and going!”

So I said, “Let’s go seen Sonic Hedgehog at six-thirty!”

Now, we’d sort of avoided this movie–it looked a little dumb. But we actually like dumb movies–and that’s important to remember. Dumb movies are fun, and hilarious, and they want you to feel good at the end, and God knows we’re not getting much of that anywhere else, right?

So we went and saw Sonic the Hedgehog, and in the middle of the movie two things happened.

The first is that Jim Carrey made a double entendre — a very funny one– and our teenagers ERUPTED into laughter, and Mate and I cracked up at them cracking up because you think they’d never heard a dirty joke before and it was awesome that they got this one and died.

The second is that a the movie’s intended audience–a toddler of about three–bolted out of the seat and toward the stairs and was barely captured by her mother, laughing all the way.

Mate and I had a good laugh–he was like, “Someone wanted to be Sonic and someone wanted to be Robotnik, and guess who won?”

And you know? I miss the days when the kids were little and forced us to be more interesting and active people to keep up with them. But I don’t miss not being able to miss a movie in peace.

Tonight ZoomBoy came and gave me a long hug and said, “It was a really good week.”

“Are you sure? You didn’t do much.”

“Yeah–thank you for that. It was good to get some quiet in my head. The next month is going to be really busy with the play and everything.”

“It is–get some sleep–you have to be up early in the morning.”

And he kissed me and went to bed.

My kids are no longer little–that part of my life is pretty much over, and my ovaries remind me every time they squeeze out one last cobwebby egg and try to kill me for the effort. But what’s coming only has to be boring if I let it be–and I like peace and quiet, and so does Mate. And our kids seem to be growing up okay without constant activity–or, at least, they’re making their own.

There are good things ahead–I can make them happen. And, if I monitor my fluid intake, I don’t have to get out of my seat at the movies unless I really hate the show.

0 thoughts on “Minor Epiphany”

  1. Sara Rall says:

    This is so exactly where I am in my life right now, and I needed to hear the reminder that I can still make fun things happen, thank you!

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