We had a perfect day today (our last Terrific Tuesday) with the kids – good times enjoying the company of our ‘younguns’ and some amazing women I am truly blessed to call friends.
Of course I’ve had some not-so-perfect days this summer too. Most of you know that my Mom has been battling brain cancer for almost 2 years now, and considering the prognosis they gave her back then she’s doing remarkably well. She has some speech difficulty and very limited use of her right hand, but manages to keep her house as tidy as ever, make her own meals and shop for the grandkids. Still she depends on Dad for a whole lot of course, so when he suddenly came down with Hepatitis three weeks ago and was out cold for six days in the hospital, it was a blow for her and for all of us (two sisters & a brother, all with families of our own). Even though there was never the life-or-death threat we experienced with Mom, it was pretty tough to see Dad – strong, dependable, carries-the-weight-of-the-world-on-his-shoulders – lying there weak & in tremendous pain, and alarmingly not getting better after the third, then fourth, then fifth day. On top of that, the timing was terrible. My dad had spent the last 5 months planning and talking about a family vacation – something we have not been able to do since 2 weddings and 5 grandkids ago (or, in 8 years to be exact). He wanted everything to be perfect, researched every detail, and counted the days. EVERY time he saw the kids their first greeting was, “Only 25 (or 16 or 10) more days ‘till the BEACH!” But the Wednesday before our Sunday departure, he was barely able to move. With a 2-6 week projected recovery period, we swallowed hard and broke the news to the kids.
Now, how would you expect a 7 year old to react? After so much build-up, days and weeks of encouraging them to imagine what they will get to do and see on vacation. I could just hear it now… “But Mommy you PROMISED!” But you know what? The first thing they wanted to know was if Paps would be okay. Once they were assured of that, there was some pretty pitiful disappointment… but no hissy fits, no tantrums, not even an argument. They were more worried about when Paps would come home and what was wrong with him. I must say I was very impressed and surprised by how maturely they processed the whole thing. I think we are often so worried about letting our kids experience disappointment. We love them so much we jump through hoops trying to fulfill their expectations (Christmas and Birthdays are my weaknesses). We dread so much the sting of disappointment that we let it get in the way of good parenting (“This is your LAST final warning before you’re on restriction Mr.!”). We bail them out & shelter them from experiences that could help them develop character (how many times have I delivered a forgotten lunchbox to school when there’s perfectly good Beefaroni in the cafeteria?). The point is I learned through this whole experience that kids are a lot more mature than we give them credit for, especially when it counts. They bounce back, and they are capable of learning that life has its ups and downs, and that they are strong enough to handle them.
Fortunately, my kids soon learned that the downs in life make the ups a whole lot sweeter, because our story has a happy ending. Sunday came and went, but by Monday Dad had drastically improved. He came home from the hospital Tuesday and even though he was still weak, he started talking about salvaging what was left of our reservations. Wednesday night we told the kids to pack up (they were slightly excited). By Thursday they were on cloud nine to be headed south, and we ended up having the best 4 days of vacation ever. The days we missed only made us more grateful for the time we had. It was an unforgettable summer for sure – just ask Jackson (my 5 yr old)… “Hurry up and wash” I nag from the bathroom door. “But Mama, I can’t find the soap!” he says, “I need some goggles and a snorkel!”
--- Lori Bush