Week of March 3, 2004

"I want to go home!"
"I want to go that way"
"I want to see SteveNValerie"
"I want pancakes!"
"Is Maggie in town?"
"I have a crane!!!!"
"I want move"
"I want picture….cheese!"

We went away this past weekend, to visit our friends on the North Shore. I had visions of hanging out at their child-friendly house (with a deck Owen loves), taking a break for lunch at Bertucci's, and perhaps taking a trip to the playground that is right on the beach at Marblehead. They have no snow and we still had a bit, so we were looking forward to some outdoor romping. Maybe there would even be moments of adult conversation.

It was a tough start. My plan to prepare Owen, "We're going to see Stephen and Valerie and Sasha!!" made stopping for breakfast rather stressful. It's dawned on me that if we're having any kind of adventure, Owen won't get out of the car for any pre-adventure stops. Breakfast? Not interested. I even tried "Mummy needs coffee." Nope, Owen was unhappy and unwilling to budge from the car. We dragged him out, picked up an egg and bagel for him (and coffee for me!) and hit the road. Moving in the car was okay, presumably because we were heading to our destination. Via the gas station and the bank, but hey, I don't think he's caught on to the delays that stopping for errands causted, but as long as the car kept moving and he didn't have to get out, he was okay with it.

Another change: no longer can we rely on him napping in the morning when we travel. We kept slyly looking in our rear view mirror, hoping to find him snoozing, and there he was calmly flipping through his books. We have a stack next to him; with his new seat, he can reach over and pick what he likes. Coloring books are often very engaging, and he thumbs through them like a serious commuter reading the newspaper. Our friend Maggie is still recovering from getting an impromptu ride home and having Owen (who normally adores her) completely ignore her and read his books while she sat next to him in the back seat. He was perky, and able to entertain himself, so everytime we looked back, there were two open eyes staring at us. Only the last 15 minutes of the trip, did he finally succumb to the soothing rhythms of traffic, and of course he woke up as soon as we arrived at our destination. We were grateful he woke in decent spirits, sometimes his disorientation is stressful for all of us.

Of course, when Owen arrives at a long-desired location, the recipients of his enthusiasm must feel we're making it up. He's often a little clutchy at first and even when he thaws, you'd never know he was desperate to get to this place all morning. Owen is often fairly quiet around other people, so all in all, I feel like there are two Owens out there. The one we see, who's feisty and relaxed and chatty and energetic, and the Owen that other people see. The one that takes a while to get relaxed, and who focuses on running back and forth endlessly, once he is. Few people get to see the one who smiles and giggles, and pushes us to hang upside down. The one who lifts his shirt up as he beckons for tickles. The one who likes to give doggie kisses and who comes over to ask that his shoelace be tied. Perhaps few people can know a child as well as a parent, someone who sees them first thing in the morning and last thing at night. We see Owen at his very best, and his very worst, and everything in between.

I'm not sure how to get other people see more of this social Owen, what we can do to let others see him at his best. People hang back, and that can be tough. I do this with other people's children; I see them so infrequently that I feel intimidated and wish to respect the boundaries that come with not knowing someone very well. Yet perhaps kids can blossom when liberties are taken, when in the right form and measure.

When we first arrived at the family reunion last August, I was very scared how Owen would react. I was expecting him to be timid. One of the first people we saw was my brother Steve, who greeted Owen at their first meeting by promptly picking him up and holding him upside. I was surprised and pleased that this elicited only giggles from Owen. It was just the right thing.

Did he calculate Owen's measure, or just gamble that little kids like to be held upside? Did he assume that pushing the envelope was a good way to break the ice? It worked. Perhaps it's not a coincidence that my brother is one of the very few people in our family who also has a son.

Sunday we got back from traveling, ready to devote the day to chores and hanging out with each other, but some work issues intervened for Scott and it was not our best day. Owen was of course at his sweet best, and it ended on a good note, but it's that shortage of time and energy that is the hardest part of parenting.

 

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