This is Childhood
Tue, Jan 8, 2013
From my earliest days I can remember fearing loss and mourning things in the height of celebration—it’s a manifestation in tears of a profound love for life and preoccupation with its fleeting nature. Many times it’s made me feel broken, why can’t I just enjoy a moment? Why must I always look just past now to this won’t always be?
This tendency toward sentimentality often comes through in my writing. A few weeks ago I receive an email from Lindsey, a friend I’ve made through blogging. Over the years we’ve connecting in comments, virtual nods and hugs, I’ve discovered something that I never imagined I would find. Lindsey drinks a similar cocktail of joy and melancholy.
When she asked me to participate in a writing series called, “This is Childhood,” I felt flutters of excitement. Right now the girls are 4 1/2, 6 1/2 and 8. They are changing so quickly and, behind us trail the days of onesies and nursing, of baby carriers and diaper bags. There are times when my longing for those days pierces me and the truth of my passage beyond the baby years stings. The next mamas will be my babies, I will be a grandma and the day everyone warned would come, the day that this time really is over, will have arrived. Then I realize that what will also come will be new friendship, new layers to the fantasies I had as I watched their little legs kick and the way they worked to form their lips into shapes that would produce sounds.
I know intimately that each stage really is the best because it is. Because it means that I am living with these souls who carry a part of me and so much more—new talents, unfamiliar quirks, irresistible challenges and delights. All of this is why I am so excited to be a part of a series, of a group of women who, on each Tuesday, will present a narrative of an age.
Age 1 by Aidan Donnelley Rowley
Age 2 by Kristen Levithan
Age 3 by Nina Badzin
Age 4 by Galit Breen
Age 5 by Allison Slater Tate
Age 6 by Bethany Meyer
Age 7 by Tracy Morrison
Age 8 by me and inspired by Briar
Age 9 by Denise Ullem
Age 10 by Lindsey Mead
The chance to visit and in some ways revisit an age or to look ahead and experience through the perspective of another parent what that best age is, well it just feels like a priceless passport for knowledge and compassion. Age 8 will be Briar. The place where she and I are now is new, changed and yet somehow still very much fitting into the rhythm that she and I have created over the years. I asked how she would feel about me writing about her.
“Well, what sorts of things will you say?” she asked with winsome smile, her bangs swooping down over her eyes.
“Well, I think I’ll talk about how fearless you are, the way some things scare you and other things don’t. I’ll probably talk about how you surprise me, how you are so funny and so smart. Would that be ok?”
She shakes her head moving her bangs not away from her eyes, but in fact making them flutter even more heavily upon her eyelashes. Eight is flirting with defiance as she knows I prefer being able to see her eyes. “Will you say other stuff? Like will you say anything about my ukelele?”
“Of course, but I think I’d want to explain that sometimes you get frustrated. Is that ok?” I watched her consider it.
She reached out and ran a finger along her iPod. She turned back to me and brushed her bangs away from her face. She fixed her pale blue eyes on me and said, “That would be ok mom, I mean it would be really great. I love that you are going to write about me. Your writing is important to you and you make me feel important when you put me in your writing.”
My nose stung and the lump in my throat felt impossibly large. I had a summer blockbuster quality montage pass before my eyes.
I saw Sean’s face in the delivery room.
I saw the doctor placing her on my chest.
I saw her lip synching in the playroom
and I watched her walking in the doors to kindergarten.
“Oh, honey, you were what made me start writing. You are my inspiration. Always, my first baby, Briar, even when you are big.”
I hope that you will come on Tuesdays and read the stories. Some days they will be from me, other times I’ll be pointing you to someone else, but always they will be about the best age.
Tags: This is Childhood
Oh, my. Crying hot tears onto my desk. I had better make time on Tuesdays, because this is going to be a journey. I can’t explain how grateful I am to have found you in this weird world called the blogosphere. A truly kindred spirit. xoxo
Thinking about this theme has sparked all sorts of ideas. Mostly I am just so grateful that it created the impetus to talk with Briar about this.
I think you should collaborate on a series called THIS IS MARRIAGE that chronicles classic dumb-spouse moves through the years. 20s Clueless Husband, 30s Work-Obsessed Husband, 40s Forgetful Husband, 50s Mid-Life Crisis Husband—also known as Porche Husband, 60s Why Can’t I Retire Now? Husband.
Plenty of material there.
I see what you are doing here. You are setting the precedent for the Porsche, aren’t you? So long as it isn’t a motorcycle and I can put a governor on it so it is the slowest Porsche ever, we’re fine.
All that said, you may be on to something, though I fear hearing what the female side of This is Marriage would look like.
I loved you set this out for your readers, Amanda. I’m really honored to be part of this!
Thank you. It’s really going to be wonderful!
Absolutely lovely.
Stunning, really.
It’s easy when you have this kind of material.
I, too, know this combination of joy and melancholy. And I’ve never felt it more acutely than I have as a mother.
It’d be insufferable if not for the rich absurdity and proximity to magic that it sometimes offers.
What a cool idea for a series, I will be reading along. I have 2 kids (10 and 4) and am expecting a ill one in July. The range of ages is kinda making my head spin, will be fun to read these perspectives.
Oh, congratulations! Three is a fun equation
Thank you for these happy tears. I realise the miles between us have grown, but whilst I’ve been finding my own space, I’ve spent some quiet time rediscovering your writing . There is always a reason to begin writing. She was yours. And funny enough, you were kind of mine. Oh, and I agree with Sean’s comment, wholeheartedly.
Hoping you always have cause for happy tears.
Amanda, I’m grateful to Briar for inspiring you to write. You do it so beautifully. I’m thrilled to be part of this series. Looking forward to reading everyone’s stories.
I was just thinking about how people always exclaim about an age that was their favorite. I really think this is going to be fun and reopen wonderful memories for people. Or, perhaps make them feel a little less alone if the story is about the trials of an age of questing (testing).
Well, I got to the pictures, and then I teared up. Thanks. Tears in my nightly Slurpee.
I’m so excited about this series, and I am most excited, I think, just to hear all the different voices speaking about ages I now know well.
Also, I love the name Briar.
I am also so glad I met you through this endeavor, Amanda!
I find that I learn so much from other parents (and their children!) this series is going to be delicious.
Thank you for saying that about Briar’s name. Funny, we had never imagined that naming our children would be anything but easy…so man books!
This is childhood. Summer blockbuster montages, frustration, swelling joy, the agony of defeat. And getting to share in the process with kindred friends in the ethers makes it more joyous, more real, more human.
Your words just take my breath.
xoxo
And yours mine.
Amanda– Thank you so much for sharing these important reflections and conversations with your daughter. I think that I may have had similar ones with my child. And like you, I try to be judicial when sharing some of her foibles. The last thing that I want is for my child to look back at my writing and accuse me of revealing too much. I can’t wait to read the series.
We really are growing up together in so many ways. This was a very dear reminder to go beyond watching—ask, engage, and then honor.
I’m so excited for this series! I see a few of my favorite writers on the list, and I hope to get to know the others as well. What a wonderful idea.
My first just turned four, but I know that 8, 10, or even 15 is not too far away. While I pine for her baby days, I also know that there is so much more to look forward to, and it’ll be a pleasure to see what’s in store – both the bitter and the sweet – through the words of such incredible writers.
Thank you. We are all so looking forward to both the writing and reading of it. I am incredibly hopeful that a new dimension will emerge in the comments, further weaving the stories that we are living and creating. Because you are so very right, 4 quickly becomes 10 and 10 becomes 20, this series gives us a chance to pause, advance and rewind.
Hey Amanda,
Thank you for writing down and sharing these stories. You are ridiculously talented and your open and honest account of every detail and insight just kills me (in a good way). I love that you stop to honor and acknowledge moments and emotion with so much clarity. Thank you also to Briar for inspiring you!
My daughter Chelsea just turned one on Jan 4th, and it still feels like I am feeling around in the dark when it comes to being a parent. Your writing gently reminds me that most wonderful and meaningful moments life come from the little moments in life. Honest moments, silly moments, carefree moments, and even sad moments. The more you can pay attention to these moments, the richer your life becomes.