This week’s column

Pub­li­ca­tion: Free­dom — OCR — Pla­cen­tia News-Times; Date: May 17, 2012; Sec­tion: News; Page Num­ber: 4
WHATDAY

Even­tu­ally, you real­ize your kid turned out fine

When you have an only child, you feel like you’re now an expert at child-rearing, but you have no fur­ther use for the knowl­edge. It’s almost as frus­trat­ing as rais­ing sev­eral chil­dren and real­iz­ing that every­thing you learned from the first one is use­less with the second.

This is just one of the rea­sons I enjoy babysit­ting my horse trainer’s son. Not only do I get to act like a grand­mother, I get to share my sto­ries of rais­ing Mar­cus every time my trainer starts to worry about whether she’s doing it right.

By the time Mar­cus mar­ries and has chil­dren, I will be too old to hold them. This is my chance to spoil a baby, then hand him back to his parents.

Last week, her hus­band left the baby briefly unat­tended. Tyler is 9 months old and very active, so he promptly fell on his head, caus­ing lots of tears and a bruise. My trainer was, of course, con­vinced they were both ama­teur par­ents and wor­ried for lit­tle Tyler’s safety.

I related the story of how Mar­cus, at age 2, was tod­dling around the fam­ily room while I was sit­ting on the couch. He sud­denly tripped on his own feet and fell, face first, into the book­shelves. I still remem­ber the “thwack­ing” sound of his fore­head hit­ting a shelf, fol­lowed by a tense silence, then screams.

The tears even­tu­ally stopped, and he was fine. Since this was the day before we took him for his first hair­cut, we have lovely pic­tures of him at Rain­bow Kids with a big pur­ple knot between his eyes. At least his hair looked good.

I wasn’t sure if this soothed her fears, so I added that I used my own mother as a mea­sur­ing stick of my par­ent­ing skills.

She acci­den­tally shut my brother’s head in the car door,” I said. “He turned out all right.”

Yes­ter­day, she and I were hav­ing lunch after my les­son and I shared my lat­est news with her.

Mar­cus found an apart­ment. He’ll be liv­ing in Long Beach this summer.”

She gave me a rather stricken look, which was kind of what I didn’t want to admit I was feeling.

You feel it, too,” I told her. “And Tyler’s just a baby.”

I know it’s inevitable that Mar­cus will move out, and that he’s been in Long Beach for 9 months out of the year any­way. I also know that this is the way life is sup­posed to oper­ate. You raise your chil­dren, then push them out of the nest.

His main rea­son for liv­ing in Long Beach over the sum­mer is that he is try­ing to find a job he can work full-time now, and per­haps part-time dur­ing the school year.

Still, I’m going to miss hav­ing him around this sum­mer. Last year he couldn’t find a sum­mer job, so we hired him to work for us, doing chores and run­ning errands. We had a few dis­agree­ments about his work sched­ule (“No, you can’t be vac­u­um­ing at mid­night”), but I loved hav­ing a per­sonal assistant.

The gro­cery shop­ping alone was worth his pay.

I’m cer­tain I’ll adjust to Mar­cus being in an apart­ment. We’ll have a new rou­tine. He’ll still stop by every once in awhile. I don’t know if his apart­ment has a laun­dry facil­ity, so he might take advan­tage of the free machines and deter­gent at Casa de Carline.

I do know that time will put it into per­spec­tive. Maybe in 19 years, I’ll be telling my trainer the story of how Mar­cus moved out and it was all fine.

 

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