Monday, August 29, 2011

Who we become because of our kids

Oh for the days without worry or grief. You know. That time we often refer to as B.C. Before Children. Our world revolved around us. And our spouse. And maybe a good job, if we were lucky.

Those were the days when we planned for the weekends. For vacations. For dinner and a movie on a Tuesday night, if that’s what we wanted to do.

Things were different back then. If we saw a new pair of shoes and we wanted them, they became ours, even if we already had plenty in the closet. We wouldn’t think of dragging out those same stretched and snagged swimsuits we’ve squeezed into for the past six summers. We’d simply go out and grab another. And none of this pinching pennies for school supplies or for new tennis shoes that we just pray will make it till fall break. And Saturdays? Those belonged to us as well.

B.C. we were rested. Energetic. Organized. Focused. We knew where we were headed, and if we veered off course, that was OK too, because life’s an adventure. And it’s a lot easier to pack when you’re a one-man show.

But then it occurred to me. What about all the things we weren’t B.C.? What about the people our children have molded us into? What about the Who that we have become because of our kids?

Children have a way of forcing us to change. They can make a sweet person sweeter…or make him able to break the sound barrier with a single word. They can force an honest person to lie…or at the very least, help him perfect the often more popular art form of omission. Kids can get a lazy person up off the couch for a quick, two-hour stroll, or they can drive him to the darkest recesses of his home to curl up in a fetal ball, just waiting for the insanity to pass.

Yes, kids have amazing powers over our lives, which often forces us to think in new and sometimes ridiculous ways. Let’s face it, what childless man, creative or not, could come up with “Sink the Cheerio” or have success potty training his three-year old in only a half a day’s time by bribing him with candy? And who besides a mom could so ingeniously get her kid to eat broccoli by serving it and a half dozen other green goodies in a muffin tin…with a side of green milk? If only we could bottle that power.

And yet sometimes, our kids teach us lessons we could never seem to teach ourselves. We may have thought we were self-disciplined B.C., but you can believe if there is a chink somewhere in the armor, our kids will find it. We preach “control your temper” but have trouble maintaining our own when that crazy driver is doing 45 in the fast lane. We insist on using soft voices and nice words no matter how frustrated we become, yet we find it difficult after nearly breaking an ankle on a random, rolling baseball to maintain our own soft tones. And our angels see it. They point it out. Sometimes, much to our dismay, they emulate it.

And if our pride was something we formerly relied heavily upon, our kids can fix that problem too, with that innocent way they have of forcing us to be humble. They bring us down at just the right moment. Just when we start feeling a little too good. They’ll point out our bad breath or laugh at the hair on our upper lip, or proudly announce in front of a crowd that our legs feel like daddy’s whiskers. They don’t do it to grieve us; they are merely giving honest, unpretentious commentaries on what they see before them. And oh, how it can bring us back down to size.

Our children are our levelers. Our meter readers. They keep us grounded and keep us in line. They show us how to be resilient. How to rely on others. How to ask for help. And above all, they make us understand what it means to truly live as selfless human beings. We suddenly understand what it means to “die to yourself”. And maybe we just might learn to live it out not only with these beautiful kids, but with all those around us.

Yes, B.C. was a wonderful time, and if I tried, I could sing louder and longer than Archie and Edith ever thought about singing. But it doesn’t compare to pop flies and popsicles, early mornings and bed times, hair twirling and Berra hugs. These are the times of our lives. Whomever we are, and whomever we become, it is all because of our kids.

And that’s All in a day’s work!

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