It’s been a long, eventful, and productive weekend. I wish it would be a bit longer because this weather is glorious. We just finished by spending two hours on our patio with friends from church, and a good part of the conversation was about raising kids.
Parenthood naturally provokes thoughts of the responsibility that we bear to teach our children to become well adjusted happy and productive people with a sense of how they can make the world a better place…at least it should. Unfortunately we are all to often faced with family situations where the parents aren’t too keen on holding up their end of the bargain. Kids will learn, whether you like it or not. It’s what they learn from us that can be scary.
But my thoughts on this night are on pain. My daughter has been struggling with pain and balancing that with the medication and the natural tendency to wait until the pain forces taking the meds. I feel for her, because I am the same way. She learned it from me.
But with that, I’ve always been fearful about my kids suffering pain. I remember the butt puckering feeling I would get when they’d start running on pavement, and waiting for them to trip and skin a knee. Should I wait and let nature take its course, or should I run up and not let them experience the joy of running? There is no worse feeling than seeing a little guy in bed with a fever, all achey and crying. You want to make them feel better, but all you have is some tylenol, a kiss and a hug. So you sit up all night, just worrying and praying that it will be alright.
I think about the time Ian and I went riding around the neighborhood not long after he learned to bike. He was so happy and proud, but he lost his footing on the pedals going down a grade, and I watched in slow motion as he dropped off the bike and skidded on the pavement. I felt so helpless and all I could do was carry him home and patch him up.
Kids get hurt. Kids get sick. They usually turn out just fine. Sometimes they don’t, and that part terrifies me occassionally. We second guess ourselves, we question our motivations, we compare ourselves to others; all in the name of parenting. I just want to do the right thing…whatever that is.
So tomorrow will be one week for my daughter. She’s getting better, but it’s no cake walk. I’d trade places with her in a heart beat. At least I’ve had the opportunity to get a little closer and show her the affection that doesn’t always come easy between us, and I sense she feels the same.
Parenting is hard, but that’s how it’s supposed to be.