People with older kids say things to parents of small children like, “enjoy it while you can, they grow up quickly,” and you think, as the young ‘uns run around like two little tornadoes, “it can’t come fast enough!”
Then there are those moments, mostly when they are sleeping, or proclaiming their love with kisses and cuddles, when you think, “I hope they never grow up,” with tears in your eyes.
Somewhere in between, there is a balance. It’s called real life. The spectrum of parental emotion ranges from exasperation to complete, unconditional love. During the toddler years, particularly for those of us crazies who popped out two kids within as many years, the distance between those emotional poles is short. But as the little ones transform, albeit slowly, from helpless creatures to thoughtful, aware beings, the space between the extremes grows wider until one day we get a sense of what it means like to live in the middle. Balance.
Balance has recently, if only fleetingly, appeared in our home. Little shifts have occurred, like Julian (3 1/2 years) sharing a toy with Ben (20 months) unprompted. Julian becoming aware of others’ feelings. Last night I shut my finger in the door. It hurt like hell, but I held in the instinctual curse words with Julian just in the next room. He saw it happen though, saw me shaking the pain out of my hand as I did my clumsy holy-crap-that-hurt jig. As I walked into the kitchen, he called out from the other room, “mommy, are you ok?” The tone of his voice echoed genuine concern and compassion.
As these more mature scenes emerge in our lives, I begin to grasp the true sense of parenthood. Chris and I are no longer simply providing basic needs. We are shepherding two independent people into the world. We are crafting and molding actual humans. Two completely separate personalities, Ben with his abundant joy and Julian with his pensive caution. And while both remain capable of tearing through a room like a category five hurricane, they simultaneously grow, day by day, into little people with near-adult like sensibilities.
The best parts of the early years…the innocent laughter, the unconditional adoration, the blind trust…don’t disappear forever. Rather those qualities transform into a healthy balance of appreciation for life and caution. If we do right by these boys, we will cultivate that balance as they grow aware of their selves and their place in the world. If we do it right, we will neither lament the loss of the baby years nor will we impatiently await the day they are all grown up and on their own. With this awareness of that space between the extremes, we are free to truly appreciate each and every phase of our children’s lives.