Hugging my son, I felt him shake a little as thunder clapped and the lights cut out. A booming voice declared, “Oh, I didn’t mean to frighten you prematurely. The real chills come later.”
“That’s the worst part, honey,” I swore to him, squeezing him close. As we walked into the Haunted Mansion’s “doom” buggies at Disney World, I kept glancing at him, taking his emotional temperature. As we rode the ride, I pointed out little jokes and kept up a jovial attitude to help him enjoy himself.
In contrast, I smiled without a thought when my husband and I rode the exact same ride a few days earlier. I grinned at the gothic but cheery Haunted Mansion theme music and giggled at the hitchhiking ghosts. The only thing on my mind was trying to catch all of the little details before we passed by them.
After riding both times, I realized that I enjoyed the one without my kid more. It was more straight-forwardly fun. I had no distractions from immersing myself in the moment, no one I needed to worry about. I had no one to parent.
Yet if I had to choose between the two, I would never regret bringing my son on it. It seems like it would be a simple choice – more fun or less fun.
But parenthood is never that simple. Instead of pure fun, I’d be thinking about how much my kids would enjoy it and how I wish I could share it with them. (On this ride, I knew we’d be going on it together later.) I’d be missing out on seeing their responses and the different perspective they offer, even when those reactions aren’t always positive. I would miss reminiscing with them afterwards, talking what we did together. I would miss experiencing and telling them how brave they were. Frankly, I would miss being us as a family.
Isn’t that a reflection of parenthood? We look back on our days before kids and miss the free time and freedom. But the moment we visit somewhere without them, we think about how much they’d enjoy it or when we’ll bring them back. We long for a few moments of not managing big emotions, but miss their laughs. (Their meltdowns, not so much.) We wish they’d stop demanding to be carried (or as I told my older son, “What do you mean you’re too tired to walk? We’re not even in the park yet!”). But we grab for their hand when they’re not there.
As a parent, the good and bad of life are all turned up to 11. They’re completely impossible to separate. That intimacy and intensity is built-in, no matter what you do.
Perhaps I should let go trying to manage my kids’ emotions. Maybe I should learn to take it all in, no matter what’s happening. Some day, I’m going to have to let go. And there will definitely be a time for that, as they grow older. But for now, I’m going to embrace them and their reactions in all of their beautiful complexity.
For more on the contradictions of parenting, be sure to read Love, Lullabies and Watching Your Baby Grow Up. Check out our Facebook page too!