Ups and Downs

For the first time ever, I sent one of my kids to bed without dinner tonight.  I've withheld dessert many a time, an occasional bedtime story...but sending someone to bed at 6:15, listening to him wail while the rest of us tried in vain to enjoy our food, no stories, no snuggles, no nothing...it was a first.  A heart-breaking, gut-wrenching first.  I don't regret it - I knew, and still know, it was the right thing to do tonight - but that doesn't make any of it any easier.  I hope that we can all greet tomorrow with fresh eyes and calmer spirits, and that tonight will soon become water under the bridge. 

This parenting gig is a roller coaster.  Or a marathon.  No wait, an ironman.  The highs are so high and the lows so low, and some days it feels as if we alternate between the highs and the lows at an alarming pace.  There is nothing quite like the feeling of parental pride - of witnessing our children doing something great, or mastering a new skill, or saying something particularly witty, or expressing exceptional kindness.  Seeing their little faces light up with exhilaration, watching them discover the world in a new way, and being lucky enough to hop aboard their life journey with them - it's truly magical.  And thank god for those moments, because other days, parenting feels hopeless.  They're cranky, we're cranky, nothing seems to be working out the way we had planned, and that vision of perfect parenting that we've created for ourselves seems so far out of reach.  We yell, they cry...we feel as if they may have actually been put on this earth with the sole purpose of annoying us.  And then we feel guilty for even thinking such an absurdity about these pure, innocent little creatures who only want to be loved, heard, and recognized.  So we press on, starting each day with a renewed goal to do the very best we can.  To feel the highs as we crest the top of this roller coaster, and to ride out the lows, knowing that another thrilling moment is just around the bend.  

I've noticed that the universe somehow knows when we are struggling, and will often throw us a bone or two to ease the parental pains.  This week, that bone came in the form of our mini munch mastering his two-wheeler.  In true Adam form, there was absolutely no warning, no preparation, and no fanfare.  We were at the bus stop waiting for Ethan to come home from school yesterday, and Adam asked me to take his training wheels off.  After a few minutes of arguing, I said in that annoying know-it-all-mom tone, "Fine, suit yourself, you can try it."  I unscrewed his training wheels, and our little man jumped on his bike and pedaled off.  And that was that.  When I asked him when he had learned how to ride a bike, Adam's response was, "I just knew I was ready."  Watching a kid learn to ride a bike is, in my opinion, one of the most exhilarating moments we parents get.  I remember Ethan learning to ride a bike so vividly, and will remember this day with Adam forever.  The suspension of disbelief, the leap of faith as I let go of the bike, the unending smiles that spread across their faces, the beams of surprised pride emanating from their souls, as they tasted true freedom for the first time - these images are not ones that I will soon forget.  

So tonight, as I chew on the day's events, as I beat myself up, and worry, and second guess, I will instead close my eyes and picture this:  

And know that tomorrow will be a better day.