Most recently? Last night’s season premiere (hurray! Finally something on television worth watching again other than Friday Night Lights!) of Mad Men. It was from the all-knowing and wise Joan, who responded to Don Draper’s tantrum with the pronouncement:
“It’ll pass.”
Honestly I think if parents need to receive just two words of advice, this should be it. I realize it’s unbelievably simplistic, but think abut it. It applies to, well, everything really.
Baby won’t sleep through the night? Hysterical toddler demands “Uppy! Uppy!” while you’re trying to make dinner (her dinner, the way, the one she will mostly throw on the floor)? Children run to the back of the mini van instead of climbing calmly into their car seats?
It’ll pass.
This isn’t the first time I’ve heard this but it’s always a welcome reminder, since it’s can be so hard to remember, especially when you need to.
Granted, it is very challenging to remind oneself of this in the heat of the moment. When your almost six year old is throwing an enormous tantrum because he absolutely does not want to leave the pool at that moment, it’s hard to tell yourself calmly and quietly that it’s going to be ok, that someday you will be able to leave a place when it’s time to go without making a scene, but you will. You will.
As an added bonus, it reaches far beyond children. Fight with a friend or spouse? Can’t pay your cable bill? Don’t know how you’re going to shake the grumpy, heat wave induced bad mood (purely hypothetical of course)? It will pass.
Of course the whole “It’ll pass” reminder is also a touch bittersweet. Sure, I won’t miss whining through dinner (hi Ellie!) or getting shoved when I have the nerve to suggest Leo take a bath at the end of a hot, sweaty day. I'm pretty sure I won't look back on Leo’s propensity (still) for spraying me with the garden hose every chance he gets with much nostalgia, nor do I think I will ever pine for the nights when Ellie is cozily ensconced in her crib, blanket up to her chain, all the various stuffed animals arranged as they are required and she announces: “Mommy I have to go potty.”
Thankfully, the list of things I will long for is much longer: Being asked by Ellie when I pick her up from daycare: “Mommy how was your great day?” Watching small, wet bodies move with grace, ebullient happiness and complete confidence through the backyard sprinkler on a sultry July day, the smell of clean hair before bedtime, and hearing Leo proclaim, from the backseat, “Happy!” as he clutches a bag of grapes in one hand and his beloved dog tucked under his arm.
Watching Leo, the human pretzel sleep, and knowing that for now, there is no where he feels safer and happier than in his house.
Witnessing Leo at play. Here he is lining up his "guys." Clearly, he has a plan.
Leo eating watermelon. Pure joy (in case it wasn't obvious).
Ellie and her love of accessories. (Actually that probably won't pass, will it?)
Mostly clothing optional baking with Ellie.
It all reminds me of the great joke in one of my all time favorite movies, Annie Hall. In it, Woody Allen’s character, Alvy Singer does a bit about two elderly women at a Catskill resort:
“One of 'em says, "Boy, the food at this place is really terrible." The other one says, "Yeah, I know; and such small portions." Well, that's essentially how I feel about life - full of loneliness, and misery, and suffering, and unhappiness, and it's all over much too quickly.”
Ditto for parenting (though thankfully, in addition to the loneliness, misery, suffering and unhappiness I would add moments of transcending joy, pride, and a love like no other). So take that New York magazine, who recently proclaimed: "All Joy and No Fun: Why Parents Hate Parenting."
It'll pass. Much too quickly.
2 comments:
I have to add one more bit of parenting advice which came from my brother. If you are going to laugh about it later, you might as well laugh about it now.
Ellen
Good brief and this fill someone in on helped me alot in my college assignement. Say thank you you on your information.
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