We've just returned from a trip to east Tennessee, and while there we were the guests of great friends who are the proud parents of two young children (8 and 10 years old). My friend, the host for the evening, is a General Sessions judge who graduated from high school with me, and we shared an apartment in Nashville while he attended law school. The reason I mention this is to underscore the fact that the man is the same age as the old fart writing this post...
He and his (younger) wife have started their family a little later in life than most of us did, and some of the benefits of having waited to spawn are obvious: they're more patient than younger parents, they have more resources at hand for dealing with the expenses involved in raising kids, and they seem to have grown past that 'mid-life crisis' stage that puts most marriages on the rocks. In short, they're far better prepared to be great parents than most folks who had kids in their twenties. By all accounts, they are incredible parents with incredible children.
But watching the perpetual chaos they have to deal with on a full-time basis was an eye opener for me this weekend, and it always is whenever I find myself around small children. My own kids are 29 and 31 years of age, long gone from the nest. The prospect of living through their teenaged years again at my age is enough to make me shudder for what my friend has in front of him in the next few years. I told him as much this past weekend. He waved off my concerns as if shooing a fly away from the food on the grill.
But I've been there. I know what happens when puberty hits and your little bundle of joy morphs into the character Linda Blair played in The Exorcist. I know what it's like to stand at the foot of the bed of a sleeping teenager and actually consider strangling her in her sleep, just to make sure she doesn't spawn another like her. (I exaggerate, but only slightly...)
Obviously, she survived my homicidal thoughts, and within a few years had returned to "normal". I'm happy that I resisted those urges. But at the time, anything was possible.
My friend has a beautiful daughter and a very rambunctious son. He has no clue what he's in for in the years ahead, and apparently finds my dire predictions unwarranted. So I (and our mutual friends) stopped trying to warn him of the trials and tribulations he would soon face, and just enjoyed our visit.
Now that my lovely (and dangerous) wife and I are home again, we're back into our routine here at Chateau Squatlo. However, tonight is different. My wife's six year-old niece is staying with us overnight, a "sleepover" they've both been very excited about for days. They've already been to a friend's house for a swim, baked cupcakes, taken a walk, rented a movie, brought home pizzas, and have at least a dozen other things on a list of activities yet to check off. I'm listening to the laughter and chaos in the other room, and having flashbacks to those days when my life was wrapped around the activities of my own kids. It's a bittersweet treadmill of memories to run down.
But personally, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be up for the whirlwind of T-ball practices, boy scouts, soccer matches, cheerleader camps, dance lessons, and the never-ending job of chauffeuring them around from place to place in the age of $4 gasoline...
That's a job for a younger person. One with energy. And patience.
Me? I need an adult beverage...
He and his (younger) wife have started their family a little later in life than most of us did, and some of the benefits of having waited to spawn are obvious: they're more patient than younger parents, they have more resources at hand for dealing with the expenses involved in raising kids, and they seem to have grown past that 'mid-life crisis' stage that puts most marriages on the rocks. In short, they're far better prepared to be great parents than most folks who had kids in their twenties. By all accounts, they are incredible parents with incredible children.
But watching the perpetual chaos they have to deal with on a full-time basis was an eye opener for me this weekend, and it always is whenever I find myself around small children. My own kids are 29 and 31 years of age, long gone from the nest. The prospect of living through their teenaged years again at my age is enough to make me shudder for what my friend has in front of him in the next few years. I told him as much this past weekend. He waved off my concerns as if shooing a fly away from the food on the grill.
But I've been there. I know what happens when puberty hits and your little bundle of joy morphs into the character Linda Blair played in The Exorcist. I know what it's like to stand at the foot of the bed of a sleeping teenager and actually consider strangling her in her sleep, just to make sure she doesn't spawn another like her. (I exaggerate, but only slightly...)
Obviously, she survived my homicidal thoughts, and within a few years had returned to "normal". I'm happy that I resisted those urges. But at the time, anything was possible.
My friend has a beautiful daughter and a very rambunctious son. He has no clue what he's in for in the years ahead, and apparently finds my dire predictions unwarranted. So I (and our mutual friends) stopped trying to warn him of the trials and tribulations he would soon face, and just enjoyed our visit.
Now that my lovely (and dangerous) wife and I are home again, we're back into our routine here at Chateau Squatlo. However, tonight is different. My wife's six year-old niece is staying with us overnight, a "sleepover" they've both been very excited about for days. They've already been to a friend's house for a swim, baked cupcakes, taken a walk, rented a movie, brought home pizzas, and have at least a dozen other things on a list of activities yet to check off. I'm listening to the laughter and chaos in the other room, and having flashbacks to those days when my life was wrapped around the activities of my own kids. It's a bittersweet treadmill of memories to run down.
But personally, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be up for the whirlwind of T-ball practices, boy scouts, soccer matches, cheerleader camps, dance lessons, and the never-ending job of chauffeuring them around from place to place in the age of $4 gasoline...
That's a job for a younger person. One with energy. And patience.
Me? I need an adult beverage...
4 comments:
Well, being in the same ship as your friend as a much older parent and having one of my daughters reach the teen years, I understand what you are saying. That notwithstanding, I can also say that these are the very best years of my life and worth every little aggravation.
JJ, don't get me wrong, I wouldn't take anything for either of my kids. But then, I wouldn't wish a teenaged girl on Osama bin Laden.
No one deserves that hell on Earth.
Some of my friends managed to raise girls who DIDN'T drive them batshit crazy, and I guess every child is different. My son hasn't given me five minutes of trouble in his entire life.
I guess I was being paid back for all the hell I raised as a child... I think Bill Cosby talks about the curse parents put on their children?
'I hope you have kids someday who act exactly like you act!"
That curse works!
Yes, my friend, my mother put that same curse on me, and I'll bet she went to the Crossroads at midnight, during a full moon, and buried a Black Cat Bone when she threw that curse, too .... 'cause after all these years, the curse is STILL werkin'! heh
The only GOOD part about having/raising children to adulthood, though, is the payoff of Grandchildren. For you see, GRANDCHILDREN are Sid Arthur's reward for not having killed your OWN children when they needed it!
That curse absolutely works, but I guess having a black cat bone to bury at the Crossroads makes it official. My own experiences bear that out... I didn't cause HALF the trouble I've put with since spawning.
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