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The Family Room by Michelle Martin

August 31, 2008

Waiting game

Once upon a time, I was always doing things with my kids. Playing with them, running alongside their bikes as they learned to stay up on two wheels, even holding them on my lap in the dentist’s chair.

Now I seem to spend a lot of my time waiting for them.

That thought crossed my mind as I waited for them at the dentist’s office on an August morning.

When Caroline went to get her teeth cleaned the first time, she sat in my lap. We progressed to handholding, and then to lingering in the exam area, always in eye contact. Now my involvement is limited to filling out forms, receiving the dentist’s report at the end (no cavities, praise God) and paying the bill. Oh, and driving them there.

Later, I spent hours waiting to sign her up for a popular park district ice skating program. Apparently, as there are too few slots to meet the demand, the decision was made to reward the children whose parents have flexible enough schedules (and those who can work in a skating rink lobby, given a phone and a laptop) with the opportunity for lessons. And the opportunity for parents to wait while their children skate. I don’t remember my parents spending much time waiting for me; I’m old enough to have grown up in a different time, when kids were sent out the door and not expected back until dinner, or, in the evening, when the streetlights came on.

Our lives were not so organized or so examined, and our parents seemed to like it that way. It gave them the time to pursue their own interests, I suppose, interests other than whether their children could do a one-foot glide or a crossover step.

That’s probably why studies show that parents now – even working parents – spend more time interacting with their children than parents – even stay-at-home parents – did a generation ago.

Now, my interaction with the kids is more often limited to talking with them in the car, or watching them in their activities. But even that gives me lots of chances to hear what they think about what they are doing, and what they think about what’s going on around them.

Sometimes I enjoy having the time to sit and read a book or chat on the phone while I wait. In lots of ways, it’s much easier than when they were small and needed hands-on care for nearly all of their waking hours.

Sometimes I miss the opportunity to play along. All the waiting and watching reminds me that I am watching them grow up, and, inevitably, away.

That’s the way it is supposed to be, of course. Paul said that when he became a man, he put away childish things. My children are nowhere near that point, of course, but knowing how far they have come makes it easy to understand that they will make the rest of the journey.

I’ll accompany them as long and as closely as they’ll let me. And I’ll enjoy the trip.

Martin is assistant editor of the Catholic New World. Contact her at [email protected].