A couple weeks ago, I needed a photo for a year-long project with my good friend, Melissa, who is also a photographer. I wanted to photograph a particular black bridge in the largest public park in San Antonio, Brackenridge Park.
It’s a thirty-minute drive – one way – from my house, so I justified the gas expense by making an event of it. I recruited my nephew, niece, and sister Priscilla, who arrived home from college, to come along.
The plan: playground, feed ducks, picnic lunch, take photo.
ETC (estimated time to completion): 8am to 11am.
The result: playground, accident, pediatric urgent care, lunch, soccer game, playground, feed ducks, take photo.
ATC (actual time to completion): 8am to 5pm.
Since I don’t yet have kids, there are wonderful things I remember when I’m in charge of some.
-It is challenging to have an adult conversation with kids in the car around. Kids, well-behaved as they are, add volume. Their requests, needs, questions, and troubles are a regular “interruption.” These two also love talking to adults. They tell awesome stories about their lives without ceasing. So you shift gears, and adjust. I love hearing them talk; I love how they know we want to listen; and I loved when they talked to each other for a little so Priscilla and I could catch up.
-Potty breaks should be frequent and mandatory. This is certainly true with a two, three, or four year old, but I’m guessing it might last a few years more. We managed to avoid accidents all day long – potty related accidents that is – by taking frequent, mandatory potty breaks.
-Well-disciplined children are a delight. I’m sure their parents see their bad side, but I don’t see it often. These kids bring so much joy into my life it’s hard to hold my heart inside.
-Everything takes longer. Somewhere between 1.5x to 3x longer. My trip – had I made it alone - would have been under two hours. Instead, I packed four lunches, not one, I packed four water bottles, not one. I put carseats in and out of the car. I buckled kids in and out every stop we made. We ran through the sprinklers. I walked slower. I waited to listen and respond more. I carried more bags of Stuff. I completely understand why a stay-at-home-mom might feel like all she does is make meals, clean up meals, and clean up toys. Or might feel like she does nothing. Things really do take that long.
Boys + life = stitches. Or in Aidan’s case = glue.
We unloaded Stuff from the car, and walked into the park. Entering the playscape, Aidan tripped, landing chin-first. Priscilla was closest to him, and after restraining her urge to scream, held him close. I turned and saw…..blood.
I channeled my inner Mommy, told my stomach to stop flipping over, and considered whose shirt was going to be sacrificed. Since I didn’t want to get arrested, mine was out. Thankfully, some flannel pants I had thrown in my bag to (totally ghetto) pad my camera did the trick.
Priscilla held Aidan, and looked up at me with frightened doe eyes.
Isabel kept repeating cheerfully, “Aidan, you’re okay, it’s okay. We can go play now, come on, you’re okay, right?” I knew she was trying to cheer and encourage him.
“Stitches,” my left brain said.
“Your brother in law is never gonna let you live this down,” my right brain said.
“We’re leaving,” my voice said.
On the drive, I tried to reach my sister and brother in law (the kids’ parents). They were out cycling, and since they are both are triathletes, they ride hard, fast, and long. They finally answered, and changed their course to meet us at pediatric urgent care.
Daniel threw open the car door with a huge grin on his face, and took the first look at the Wound. He laughed out loud, and said, “That’s awesome! Now you’ll have a scar JUST like Mommy and Daddy!”
Me: HUGE sigh of relief. (Daniel’s scar is from being thrown off a motorcycle. Esther’s is from being thrown off a bicycle. I was there for that one.)
The doctor’s assessment was glue, not stitches, and of course, every male who heard the story said, “Aw, I could have done that myself with some super glue!” And every female rolled her eyes and whispered, “Not on MY kid!”
Side note: the Disney channel was playing in the waiting room, and it was TRASH. One minute there was some cute cartoony kid thing, and the next minute there were junior high kids dressed like hookers throwing their pelvises around to rock music. We immediately sat where the TV could be heard, not seen.
While waiting for Aidan’s face to be repaired, Isabel and I played outside. We were very dangerous. I taught her how to walk on red curbs, how to balance while walking on railings, and how to roll down steep grassy hills. This was her favorite, and we did it a long time.
Sometimes life seems like this. You do crazy things – like walking on four foot tall railings narrower than a balance beam (okay, while I had both hands firmly under her armpits), and everything goes fine. You do something normal, like walking up steps, and split your face open.
At the kids’ soccer game, Aidan was under doctor’s orders not to play. Initially shy about his injury, he soon discovered the magical power of a Battle Wound. When every new soccer friend arrived, he thrust his chin into the air with a HUGE smile on his face. He was the new rockstar.
Isabel's expressions after scoring a goal. She scored five goals in this game. Three of them were for the opposing team, but hey, she's learning how to control the ball. Thankfully all the parents on her team were able to laugh about it. We want our kids to "succeed" and "win". But we also want them to learn teamwork, perseverance, and.....how to get some of that energy out! Parents who put their kids in sports with these goals are always pleasant to be around. If you can't laugh about your kid scoring a goal for the opposing team, and encourage her to just go out and try again, you should check your attitude. I love that she knew she had made a mistake, but she turned around and ran back onto the field again.
The victory sign was for a goal scored in the right goal. Wish I had this image of her face.
The entire family planned to swim after the game, but of course, Aidan couldn’t get wet. And I still needed that photo. And we still had a three-dollar loaf of bread destined for ducks.
My mom, Priscilla, Aidan and I, trucked back out to the park, and it was a blast. We found at least three duck ponds. Animals are one of Aidan’s greatest loves, so he was in child heaven.
Pitching bread.
Aidan: “What are doze ducks doing?”
Joy: “They look like they’re fighting each other.”
Priscilla: “Um, Joy, I don’t think that’s fighting.”
There were baby ducks, and mating ducks, and geese, and - yuck - pigeons. There was string cheese and pita chips and yogurt and Aquafina. There was childlike amazement, laughter, sunshine, and shade.
Adventure is the stuff life is made of. It was one of the best days I’ve had in a long time.
