Already, when I got married, I wanted to found a family.
I wanted to be at the center, running one of those social units we call the
family. Today all I can say is that, with just one child, I already have my
hands full. I am thankful everyday to have been blessed with this child but
that is about the limit of the “my little angel” image. He cries through the
night, dirties anything he gets near: just so many things it’s easy to get
tired of. I’m not really at the center of anything; I’m just barely hanging on.
When I put all my worries about how all this is going to
work out aside, I can see my son is growing up. The time I got stung and the
tip of my foot turned all red, he examined my wound with such utter concern.
“Are you OK? Does it hurt, Mama?” he
said. The other day he surprised me by
singing a song he shouldn’t even have known, from beginning to end. (It was
“Kai” and it turned out the Kindergarten teacher had taught it to the children.) He does unending series of somersaults across
the bed top while I stand there and worry about him breaking his neck.
Having really only just learned to sit squarely, and
quite happy with this accomplishment, he was already up, clinging his way along,
falling on his butt and waddling through the house. That was not long ago
either but now he is running, playing and bantering. Like the morning glory seed you just planted
that, overnight, sends out a tender shoot that stands unwaveringly straight and
tall, this fragile body is brim full of power.
How many people have told me that this time, when
everything he could possibly do is adorable, will soon be gone. And it is true
what they say, about adorable, because when I drop him off at Kindergarten, he
turns and says “Kiss, Mama!” And when he
comes home every day he almost corners me (and sometimes it bothers me) with,
“You haven’t kissed me once all day!” So
small, so soft, the one I will always want to touch, my adorable, wonderful
Daisei.
Sometimes I find myself thinking, ”if time could only
stop now”. But, for all the parents, I admonish myself for such selfishness and
am not about to create a little monster that goes on doing only what it wants.
If only kids would say to you, “I don’t really need super
parents, but if that’s what is good for you, fine”. My husband and I still
worry over so many things and definitely have some idea of what the good parent
is, but sometimes we just look at each other and wonder if things will go on
this way. Both touched and embarrassed over all these overwrought attentions,
we can only bow our heads.
For “children”, “parents” are both their closest partners and their first link to society. This father and this mother, as parents, would like for this life, for this child they hold important above all others, that he become a trustworthy and well balanced person. That his friends become his family too and that, through the children, they all come back to surround the parents, a clothe of mysterious ties sown like a baton in a relay race. However much today's responsibility weighs in on us, my husband and I are at the forefront of each wonderful day.
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