It never fails. Any time I talk with someone who has grown children, they tell me that it seemed like only yesterday when their children were small. I attended the wedding of one of my former students recently. I watched this handsome gentleman, poised and mature, as he took the hand of his bride and lit a unity candle, symbolically separating permanently from his parents and beginning a new life with his wife.
I tried to picture my son in a tuxedo marrying some beautiful young woman. He is so young, his future bride may not yet be born, but I tried nonetheless. I pictured my daughters in white lace, as they would move into a new phase of their lives. It is hard to picture my six-year-old, as she is now, her broad toothless grin and little-girl body, as a woman, ready for life apart from my wife and me. Easier, though, was picturing my soon-to-be eleven-year-old as a bride. It is conceivable that over half of her life at home with us is past.
I've written several articles over the past several years suggesting that we enjoy the days we have with our children. As busy as they keep us, mediating their disagreements, running to band practice, dance, baseball, and other activities, we can lose sight of what we have right now. I never expected that being a parent would be the most challenging, entertaining, frustrating, and yet fulfilling part of my life.
Driving home from church one night this week, all three of my children were playing together. There was no screaming or fighting. They were so loud, but their voices were like a chorus to me. I wish for them a future that includes pleasant memories of their childhoods'. When they are older and married and they get together for a holiday and reminisce, I want to hear things like, "Do you remember when Mom and Dad used to let us swim in the pool late at night?" and "Wasn't it fun when we went on long hikes with Daddy on Saturdays?". I hope my oldest will remember fondly the many days that we rode to piano lessons together, just the two of us. I want my children to remember the many lunches we had together at school. I want my son to remember all those mornings he helped me make coffee and then we walked together to the mailbox to get the newspaper. I want my younger daughter to remember our conversations every night at bedtime when we asked each other, "What was your favorite part of the day?".
Of course, their memories will include things that I did wrong - times when I lost my temper or was gone more than I wanted to be, but I want their hearts to swell with nostalgia when the think of me and the many days we had together. So many of my adult clients over the years, when they recall their childhoods', feel rage, discontent, and resentment. Their memories of home are not pleasant ones. Sometimes this is true because of cruel and selfish things that their parents did to them deliberately. Often, however, their bad feelings are the result of cruel or selfish things their parents did to them without even knowing it. They didn't think about how their behavior would affect their children in the long run. They were too busy, too distracted, and simply didn't take the time to think about it.
Many times I've heard people talk about various stages of a child's life as if it were something to be dreaded. I have enjoyed every stage in the past and I look forward to every stage in the future. Despite the frustrations I wouldn't trade it for the world. We only get one chance at it with each child. Don't let it slip away.
