Parenting can really beat the crap out of you some days. But on most days, you’re just moving along—happily, quickly, crazily. It can all be a bit of a blur.
But then there are the other days. The magical unicorn days that you’d hoped parenting would be filled with. I’m not talking about the super-fun days—the trips to Disney or the gorgeous days at the beach. I’m talking about the days when you’re in sync with your kids, when you’re in the moment and belly-laughing, and it ends up leading to something deeper and more wonderful. It takes your breath away. It certainly took my breath away the other night.
My husband was out at his second of three fantasy-football drafts of the week (I’m a saint, I know), and the baby, fresh off an entire day with only a 40-minute nap, mercifully went to bed early. That left me and my son.
I had work to do, so my first impulse was to get him to bed early, too. But when I suggested books, he said, “Mom, can we just play?” He was in such a good mood, I decided to say screw everything else. School was starting soon, and I wouldn’t have the luxury of this time for much longer.
So, play we did. And it was awesome. He’s a kid who’s happiest when he’s doing imaginative play, and lately, he’s been on a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles kick. What does this consist of? We crouch down on the floor, pretend that we’re baby turtles who see green ooze creeping our way, and then—cue the serious martial-arts moves—turn into ninja warriors. After that, we always get an emergency phone call, and we set out to rescue someone and generally save the day.
That night, we started with the same story, but it morphed into a different one. The rebels from Star Wars called us, and we ended up facing off against Darth Vader, who—spoiler alert, according to no movie you’ll ever actually see—ended up being the turtles’ grandfather. It was ridiculous and silly, but we were having so much fun and the storytelling was oddly seamless given the unholy TMNT and Star Wars marriage.
When we finished playing, we got out the bedtime books, but before we read them, my son said, out of the blue: “Mom, for my birthday, I just want you and Grandma and Grandpa there.”
His birthday was 6 months away.
This was it. This was THE THING. The thing we hadn’t been able to talk about last year. Or rather, the thing that I wanted desperately to talk about, but he wouldn’t or couldn’t.
“OK, buddy, whatever you want,” I said. “But you can also have a party with your friends, which is always really fun, too.”
“No. I just want to have a party with you and Grandma and Grandpa.”
This was it. This was THE THING. The thing we hadn’t been able to talk about last year. Or rather, the thing that I wanted desperately to talk about, but he wouldn’t or couldn’t.
My dad had been in the hospital unexpectedly and for an extended period of time, and things were bad. My son didn’t have a good grasp on what was going on and I tried to normalize things at home, but he picked up on my worry. Plus, I was away a lot, visiting him in the hospital.
Eventually, thankfully, my dad got better, but my son faltered. A normally happy-go-lucky kid, my little guy suddenly seemed…heavy. He was acting out hospital scenarios in dramatic play at school. He kept to himself more than usual. He refused to celebrate his birthday at school.
When I asked him why he didn’t want me to come to his class with cupcakes and a book, he refused to tell me why. Until the other night.
I took a deep breath.
“Is that why you didn’t want me to come to your school for your birthday last year? Because you were sad about what was happening with Grandpa and that he wasn’t there for your birthday?”
“Yes.”
Yes.
“Baby, we can celebrate any way you like next year. And Grandpa and Grandma can absolutely come.”
“OK! That would be great! We could get a cake and presents! Can we read books now?”
We cuddled up on the couch and read our books, and I think that we both slept better than either of us had in a long time.
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