I want them to stand by me, right-tight next to me. But it's time that they learn not to. And that it will be okay.
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Get in the car, and wonder what the next radio song will be. That never gets old. And the songs that remind you of that nostalgic time. That never gets old. For new parents, the radio is turned down a bit for a time (1465 days but who's counting) or hosts a "Disney" cd. (My deepest condolences.) Some folks might even be listening to a novel in their car, learn a foreign language...another testament of the fact that there's no time at home.
Friends, I have arrived! My youngest is almost 5. And I can blast my car radio...once again.
I feel like I'm 18. It's (over-used word) awesome!
School is out for summer. For my kids. For Oh-so-selfish Me.
I've been driving around town with my windows rolled down...er, I mean, push-button down. Music blaring. Led Zep, Abba, Lady Gaga. Wind in my hair, and singing loud and proud. At least I know all the lyrics to Led. "Where's that confounded bridge?" The rest—so sorry, Gaga—I just ad-lib. I'm feeling hip again, make no mistake about it.
I'm feeling...
FREEDOM!
{OR A SMIDGEN THEREOF!}
There's been a lot of little smidgens-of in our home since June. Smidgens of Independence for all of us. Even Mama.
In only a few weeks, I have transcended one of the Biggies of Young Parenthood. My third and last child finished preschool and has enjoyed a few weeks of summer school, a schedule that gave me a raw (Edward Cullen-style) taste of what is to come in the fall...
This summer, I decided to let my boys stay home periodically for portions of an hour... by themselves. GASP! Yes, yes, I did. Having grown up myself in a house with one old Pacific Bell rotary phone attached to the wall by a 25' cord, with one 13 inch black n white TV with UHF and VHF and "rabbit" antenna, and with parents whose childhoods were largely defined by WW2 England... well, that said, in the early 80's, going on an errand, leaving child at home or in the car was simply a given, perhaps even a privelege, depending on who you talked to. And, no cell phones.
These days, leaving a child—under the age of 10—unattended for any reason for....well... if it's not illegal yet, it is at least seriously frowned upon amongst those paying attention.
It's kinda a shame, really. I grew up with so much freedom, riding my brother's sparkle-green banana-seat rusty dirt bike all over the neighbors' driveways with my fellow delinquent under-age-10 friends. And "neighbors" did not mean the next door neighbor. I'm talking blocks away! You remember the neighbor with the epic U-shaped driveway, uphill both ways. THAT neighbor. Only one kind of person owns those fun driveways...cranky-old-man-neighbor. Mom said be home before the street lights come on. THAT was freedom.
My Hubby and I are trying to recreate that freedom for our kids in a fishbowl world. So here it begins with smidgens of an hour when we run an errand, and pray there is no monstrous earthquake in those precious 15 minutes. Maybe "monstrous earthquake" is a relative term...
A little errand is like when I went to Radio Shack to get speaker wire for the amp for the Wii for the garage soon-to-be-stylish rec-room. I sauntered into Radio Shack, obviously knowing what I needed...said speaker wire. I decided between 18-gauge and 20-gauge, 30 feet-75 feet. I picked the best and met the clerk. He looked at me and asked, "Do you know know what this is for?" I replied, "Speaker wire. It's wire for speakers." He gave me a look, and I realized that he must think I am A) a 38-year old homemaker who has no clue how to install speaker wire OR, more likely, B) I am an 18-year old, car-radio-blaring chick, who has no clue what speaker wire is and why would it even exist, but being dumb and 18 I'd purchase it anyways. sheesh.
"Do you know how to install this?" "Of course, I've got wire strippers." There's now a monstrous earthquake in my ego. I better teach my kids how to install speaker wire before it's extinct in two years.
I also better teach my kids how to behave when they are excited to be so independent. In a recent and very exciting boat trip to our nearby Catalina Island, the Captain asked me...
"Excuse me, Ma'am, are those your kids?!"
XOXO Breeze
