Kids are the ultimate excursion

Have you ever planned for a trip and then proceeded to pack and unpack your suitcase several times before you finally just had to leave with whatever was in there? Halfway to your destination, you realize that you’ve forgotten to include your toothbrush, your pajamas or your underwear. Perhaps you’ve even forgotten all three. Yup, I think we’ve all experienced that. It seems to me that this is how it is when you’re having kids. You plan for their conception – sometimes. You prepare endlessly during the months before their arrival. When they do arrive, you still feel unprepared. Like packing luggage for a voyage, you arrange as much as possible to make a good first impression and keep your fingers crossed that you’ve got enough gear to last the entire journey.

I must admit, I don’t know if I’m qualified to give my opinion. Oh yes, I do have real, live kids. The thing is, they’re not quite “done” yet. At age 16 and 14, they’ve managed to summit my taller-than-average height, but they are still only partway along the path of growing up. As they race along on the trail toward adulthood, I’m enjoying the road trip, but sometimes I’m not so sure

I’m the most qualified tour guide for that sort of excursion. Isn’t the guide supposed to be in control? Will they find out that I’ve left my own toothbrush behind? Isn’t there some sort of map that we should be following? At times, I’m feeling more than a little bit lost, and I can’t seem to find the right kind of GPS for this exceptional expedition.

Our particular adventure began on the coldest day of December 1993. I went to bed in great anticipation of the next day’s lunch with friends before the holidays. This was far in advance of the arrival of our “January baby”. Well, that January baby decided he was going to be a December baby after all. I missed lunch and that was the end of the fantasy of control that I had held onto so tightly for the first 30 years of my life. All illusion gone in one labour-intense day! From then on, my life was ruled by a terry-cloth clad, eight pound dictator! The problem was, he learned how to smile, charm, and giggle in what seemed like just an instant. Today, he is driving my automobile and eating every morsel of food in the refrigerator.

Just as I was getting the hang of giving up some control and not losing my mind, another adventurer arrived in 1996. This one came in the form of a fascist dressed in fleece with even more finesse than the first one. He arrived with a deep dimple in his cheek and the biggest, bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. I knew I was doomed. At present, he’s constantly playing basketball or golf, when he’s not busy competing with his older brother in the eating contest that goes on at my house on the daily. As you can tell, these two guys have me by the “you-know-whats”….and I don’t even have any!

In the ensuing 16 years, we’ve gone through millions of diaper changes, thousands of loads of laundry, hundreds of temper tantrums and the throwing up of an entire blueberry pie. I’ve got dozens of tales from the past and the present. You would probably find those stories more unbelievable than the Ripley’s Believe It Or Not sitting on your kids’ bookcase at home.

At present, my days consist of feeding and watering these fine specimens, with a little morality thrown in whenever I can manage it. The challenging part is to act as the tour guide and only the tour guide. They’ll have lots of roots, rocks and rivers to navigate on their journey to becoming adults, and they’re going to forget their toothbrushes and pajamas once in awhile. Hopefully, forgetting the underwear is kept to a minimum.

It’s their life, their world, their planet. I would love to control it, make it perfect, and never let them get hurt or make a mistake, but that’s just not real. The world is imperfect and the sooner they learn that, the better off they’ll be. Besides, I’ve gotta sleep sometime!