I’ve heard from a few of my six loyal blog-followers that it’s been too long since a post. They miss the hilarious mom I once was, raising four little kids, chronicling the daily ridiculousness that comes with parenting a tiny army of people made in my own image. Well, that…coupled with my own unique, lifelong ability to attract/stumble into shenanigans at a rate far greater than most of the general public (many of these episodes occurring through absolutely NO fault of my own). Ahhh…that mom. I miss her, too. While she was often hanging on by some invisible thread, she was always at all the kids’ events, she played outside with them, she cooked actual dinners that even included vegetables, she hosted the neighborhood kids and was sometimes confused with a daycare center (true story…there were THAT many kids at our house all the time!!), she always planned fun stuff and weekend events, she knew where all her vacuum attachments were, and she would sometimes chronicle thoughtful, funny musings about everyday life with the kids. She was a hell of a gal (or so she likes to think).
Yet time passes. And kids grow. And family dynamics - and life - change. When I used to lament about wanting the kids to hurry up and grow up so they could cut their own meat and have the survival instinct of looking both ways when they crossed a street, there was always some older, wiser person who would warn me of the same things: Be careful what you wish for. Bigger kids mean bigger problems. You’ll miss this someday. And all of these statements prove true every day. I miss those sweet peanuts who loved me so much that I could cure almost any of their sorrows with a hug. I miss those sweet peanuts who were always in my presence to keep safe at all times. If only a hug was still a magic elixir. If only they even let me hug them. If only I could protect them all the time. If only I appreciated those days more. If only….
Somehow, I’m a lot less funny than I used to be, and so is life, in general. Life is evolution. And seasons change, both literally and figuratively. What was once a humorous observation of a particular moment is now observed through a much wider lens, for a bigger picture look. We were once the growing kids that our parents panicked about when we rode our bikes out of sight. We were once the teenagers our parents feared for when we were out past curfew, probably doing something stupid. We are (or were) all someone’s kids, and our parents surely felt the same way we do now, as they watched our evolution from little kids with little problems, to the bigger kids we are now with our much-bigger problems. I hope that continuously getting older doesn’t mean that our problems will continue to grow, because these middle-aged problems are pretty freaking horrifying and totally suck.
Maybe we’re broken-hearted for our kids’ struggles (and, of course, their struggles are our struggles, since our fates and happiness are permanently intertwined, like roots). Maybe we’re broken-hearted for our aging parents’ struggles (if we’re lucky enough to still have parents), or we mourn our status as adult orphans and our loss of time to fix damaged relationships (again, those tangled roots…). Maybe we are looking at the sheer carnage that may be affecting our friends’ lives - whether it’s the shocking and premature loss of people we love; maybe it’s a cancer or another health diagnosis for someone too young and too full of life; maybe it’s the dissolution of a family through divorce; maybe it’s financial devastation of a health diagnosis or loss of a job. And, worse still, maybe this carnage hits even closer to home and to our hearts, maybe it’s our carnage. Maybe it’s our illness, or our child’s illness, or our own divorce, maybe it’s more than one thing, sometimes it may even feel like all the things, at the same time. Bigger kids, bigger problems indeed.
Nothing funny here at all, at least on some of the days. There’s a line in a poem I’ve always loved: “I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.”* As these seasons of life change, and times fluctuate between good and manageable and difficult and what feels like impossible, I hang on to and have to remind myself to tread softly, both with myself (why is this always so difficult?) and those with whom I encounter. Sometimes we all need this reminder: Tread softly because we never know what someone else is going though. And if someone you know and love is currently smiling, still tread softly, as many people continue to smile even though they’re facing something insurmountable. And if someone you don’t really know that well is a complete and total asshole, still tread softly (this is the most challenging one of all) and try to give the benefit of the doubt…maybe they’re going through something we can’t begin to imagine. Tread softly in this life that is laden with trip wires. If it’s not currently our turn to be caught in the crosshairs of life, be grateful! But tread softly on those around you because, inevitably, we will, eventually, all have our turn(s). Whatever it is, whenever it comes, may we all come out on the other side, mostly intact, with a greater ability to tread softly for/on others.
* W.B. Yeats, “Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven” (old Journalism majors never die, but they do forget how to properly cite after enough years)
