Phone conversation from last night:
My mother: "Hello?"
Me: "Hi, Mom, it's me. What are you doing tonight?"
Mom: "Not much, I don't think."
Me [with a desperate twinge to my voice]: "Can we come over for dinner?"
My wonderful, understanding mother: "Sure, we'll be ready whenever you get here."
I love my parents. As I walked through their door, Mom bundled off Elizabeth and Dad took the carseat/baby out of my hands. Then they served me dinner and cleaned up and entertained my children and sent me home much refreshed.
We had visited yet another kindergarten yesterday afternoon and loved it, then found out that our top two school choices are impossible and notoriously difficult (respectively) to get in to: by listing one as our top choice we would give up all hope of getting into the other. I was stressed over that, and then Elizabeth picked up on my worry and fell apart herself. Then Amelie, who had gotten way overtired on the school tour and eventually sobbed herself to sleep, woke up sobbing again.
Looking at my two crying children and my husband who was about to leave for work, I called my parents. It was the right decision!
1 comment:
Those of you who are parents of adult kids who read this will understand this comment. Those of you who are the adult kids of us parent, please understand this comment.
There is a rewarding, respectful, and liberating feeling that comes over us when our kids trust the relationship enough to be real with us; to "drop in," to ask us for things. The relationship moves from parent:kid to friend:friend, or "just family."
In our case, Linda and I have a son-in-law and daughter who are mature enough to hear "no" and not get wigged out about it; and to say "no" and trust that we will be just fine.
Thanks for the relationship.
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