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.