Four Years in the Trenches, Some Random Thoughts

Our daughter just celebrated her fourth year and as we were running around, taping up balloon banners and pennants and laying out a nail salon and face paint station and creating tea sandwiches and an assortment of tasty desserts, these thoughts were foremost in our minds:

- thank god her birthday only comes around once a year. Not only would we be broke, but also broken, battered, shuddering heaps, running entirely on coffee fumes

- there were moments when we seriously doubted all three of us would make it to her fourth birthday (you know what I mean)

- the reason expecting parents agonize over the name of their child is because they must know, subconsciously, that whatever name is chosen will be heard and spoken and shouted roughly one million times a day. You had better really like that name. Try this: take a ball, roll it down your driveway towards the street, and start shouting that name in increasingly more shrill tones. Still like the name? Then you found a winner.

- expectations of good nutrition for you and for your child start plummeting down a slippery slope when your child turns two. Or three. It started with all organic, well-balanced, homemade meals. This was great for the first year or two of eating solids. You secretly (or not so secretly) patted yourself on the back for having such an excellent eater. Then she turned two. And now she eats a steady diet of buttered bread, cream cheese and crackers, chicken nuggets, fruit of all kinds, and chocolate milk. Some days, you swear the only thing standing between her and starvation is the chocolate milk.

- siblings were made to help entertain one another. We have an only child. It has taken us four years to realize this little gem. She will (hopefully) be receiving a baby brother or sister in the near future. Our tired bones need a break.

- hide and seek is a fantastic game. If you find a great hiding place (like under your blankets in bed), you can catch a quick power nap if you convince her to count to 100 (and since she can’t quite do this on her own yet, it actually takes her even longer). Or better yet, have her hide and take five to make yourself a cup of coffee and savor the silence.

- you didn’t know what a fantastic liar you could be until you had kids. Those little white lies that you practiced for your friends and your partner? Yeah, you could cover your neighborhood in snow with the doozies you have come up with in parenting.

- it’s probably not a great sign when your child refers to your (regular) glass of wine as “mommy juice.”

- you could still be so terrified of all the many big and small ways that your child could be hurt, even though she’s now “big girl” and no longer a baby.

- that you can have such unique and fun conversations with this little person, and belly laugh your way through those long, long days.

- that your heart could still expand, that you could love her more day by day, and that you can find a soul-drenching peace within the small moments with your child.