On Parenting ~ The Long Game

When a person chooses to become a parent or if the choice was a messy game of chance, being a parent changes the way a heart carries itself through a crowded street. Emotionally mature parents diligently strive to raise emotionally secure children. There are numerous pitfalls to watch for, the list longer than a new parent could ever dream up. Pitfalls, those missteps the parent and child alike make, not to mention other people who enter into the child's life can lead everyone askew. Some pitfalls you see coming and others are left-fielders. Positive healthy times as well as unhappy days layer like sedimentary rock upon the human heart.

Parenting is a long game. The investment of time, tears, and heart seem endless. The results vary, sometimes the wait is 30 years before the whistle blows and the outcome firm.

Over time assessing progress can be difficult, those yearly cards your child delivers on Mother’s and Father’s Day can serve as a kind of performance review. The marigolds growing in a paper cup brought home from school, the crayon masterpieces of family holding hands, each one a treasure. The child's glowing face beams with the joy of giving offers proof that the human heart wishes to gift, to share happiness. The engaged parent who is aware that self-esteem is on the plate receives these gifts wholeheartedly.

When the child grows into their adult shoes the handmade cards give way to phone calls or text messages. Once in a while a small thoughtful gift arrives in the mail, let's face it, for a lot of us our adult kids live elsewhere around the state or states or abroad. And why shouldn't they be living their best life, making their own choices, even if it means they live farther than 35 minutes away. They absolutely should, with the caveat that they are where they want to be and continue to foster an emotionally mature healthy life.

Becoming a parent is a life game changer stretching beyond the midnight sun. When the performance review parents have long awaited arrives in the glow of your adult 'kids' welcoming hug, you know the energy output and heartache is time well spent.

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The Luncheon

We had an afternoon luncheon down at the Episcopal church. It was Sunday afternoon. Of course it was because who would want to disrupt a weekday sullen faced afternoon sit on the porch swing resenting the evening breeze late arrival. You know, those days when you are bored out of your ever lov'in mind. Nope, had to be Sunday. When there was the morning service fuss to put on your best, Sunday supper to prepare, and evening service begrudgingly dragging your sorry ass.

We all had to wear hats, gardening straw hats something flashing a purple ribbon for maximum comment. We're 80 years old for God's sakes. We have to wear hats! A stipulation like we're in eighth grade. We have to wear bangled friendship bracelets and wear our hair in the latest ponytail arrangement to belong. Aren't we beyond this? Didn't we outgrow this type of behavior? And yet, here we sit, eating charcuterie cucumber sandwiches and tiny desserts dipped in gelatinous marshmallow coating.

This is the highlight? This is what I've been waiting for?

Where is our authenticity? The depth of who we are, what we've done with 80 years of our life. Okay granted the first 20 might not count. Aren't we an eclectic combination of all our adventures? The different things we've done, the places, pictures we've taken, words we've written? And, yet, we get together at 80 for luncheon to wear purple laced gardening ornaments. Throw our lives aside to talk about frivolous hats and the balmy clingy you can't breathe weather?

"Oh, how delightful you look, isn’t this just lovely!"

"So nice to see you."

Overflowing gullets and empty hearts, we go home.

"Can't wait to do this again."

"Soon!"

Hollow words peal in my ears like poison oozing from djinns bottle of eternal misery. My tossed hat lands in the trash can as I pass into the house.

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