| Thursday, September 07, 2006 |
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"There is no greater adventure than having children."
Autumn is slowly creeping on us, and on staff meetings, my coworkers regale me with their summer vacation stories. J had gone to the Bahamas with her husband, where they had danced until the sun came up, and drank cocktails with delicious-sounding names. L spent two weeks on the beaches of Mexico, flirting with pretty girls with long legs and warm eyes. B and her husband went on a tour of Europe. They visited all those marvelous places in coffee-table books, ate lots of cheese, and drank lots of wine. V and his wife went surfing in Hawai'i.
It's really fascinating to hear about their travels, about the places they went to and the people they met. And the food they ate! That part of their stories piqued my interest the most. I visualized the seafood in Mexico, the luaus of Waikiki, the cheeses of France, the chocolates of Belgium, and all that pasta!
Sometimes I feel left out of these conversations. My husband and I haven't had the kind of vacations they had, even when we didn't have a child yet. The only culinary adventure we've had was in our kitchen.
I wonder if my officemates feel some pity for me for not being well-traveled. Hmmm...
Which is not to say that I don't have my share of thrills, fun, and suspense. Being a parent is an adventure trip in and of itself.
Ever since my son was born, I have looked at the world around me with new eyes, with a perspective that I had not had in over thirty years. For the first time in a long time, the rising of the moon over the trees is a fascinating sight. Sunsets are breathtaking. Butterflies are magical, and must be chased. Same with dragonflies. Every blossom must be smelled. Mud is a substance that must be squished between toes. And bubbles are a must in every bath.
On Tuesdays we walk down to the Farmer's market to sample all the fruit, pastries, cookies, and kettle corn. It's a two-mile walk, and it's well worth it. My husband and I hold hands as we pull our son in his Radio Flyer wagon, and we ooh and aah with him, at every fascinating little "nothings". At the market, we stop at each stall, seeing if there's anything we can buy. There are other families there, with us. Parents with babies gravitate toward each other and make small talk about strollers and wagons and how it's hard to get sweet peaches in the grocery store. If we have a little extra cash, I'll buy a handmade soap or some such notion. We always stop for a few minutes to listen to the street performer, and if we like him, we put a dollar in his jar.
Parenting is not all magical and pretty. There are few things worse than the fear and anxiety a parent feels when his child is sick. And then a parent worries about the world his child is growing up in, and how much hatred there is. But you learn to save your worries for another day because your child is doing amazing things.
My son is a climber and must be watched closely. One minute, he's on the floor and the next, he's climbing the back of our sofa because he believes he can jump to the floor without getting hurt. He insists on crossing the street without holding my hand (no can do on that, young man!). When we visit the park, he runs and climbs and crawls and laughs, and I follow him until I have a stitch in my side, at which point I will insist on a break and coax him to sit down with some sliced apples. In the afternoons, he will insist on getting nekkid and splashing around in the big basin we have in our patio.
Here's a sad discovery I've made. News of a woman's pregnancy is sometimes greeted with remarks of disbelief, and sometimes pity. When I was expecting my child, a female coworker told me to enjoy my "free time" while I can because for the next eighteen years I wasn't going to have any.
Whatever happened to "Congratulations, I'm so happy for you"? And does my child turning eighteen mean that I'm excused from worrying about him? What does it say about society when parenthood, when motherhood ceases to be something to celebrate? What does it say about people when the noblest of all callings has become something you defend?
Parenthood does not mean resigning oneself, as if one had been sentenced. It does not mean losing yourself because you give so much of yourself to your child. On the contrary, it means rediscovering in yourself the capacity to find joy in the simplest of things. It entails that awesome discovery that you have the capacity to love and care for someone when you think the wellspring of your love has been used up by your spouse. You find that you are braver than you thought, more adventuresome.
Maybe one day my husband and I will visit Italy. Or Japan (I've always wanted to visit Japan. Banzai!). Perhaps one day I will lie on the beaches of Mexico and sip exotic drinks. Maybe all those trips will never happen.
I do know this: I haven't missed out on anything. I've had more fun taking long walks with my husband and son than in any other vacation I've taken. And I hope that when my son is grown up and he tells his friends about the coolest summer he had, he will tell them about a time his fingers got sticky eating strawberries, and how his tummy ached from laughing at how silly his Mommy and Daddy were.
In Italy, Nissan ran a campaign with the slogan "Perche non c'e avventura piu bella che avere figli". There is no greater adventure than having children. This is truth in advertising.
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posted by M @ 12:00 PM  |
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| About Me |
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Name: M
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About Me: I am stumbling through motherhood and wife-hood (is there such a word?), and enjoying every minute of it! Attracted to intelligent, not-conventionally-handsome men. I think Alton Brown and Hugh Laurie are hot. I make a mean baked macaroni and beef stroganoff.
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