While the grass is often greener, I can see the wisdom of having some years logged in a union before taking on such a massive project: creating, nurturing, and supporting a brand new human being. And can we just pause for a moment to acknowledge how seriously needy young humans are? SO NEEDY! And for SO LONG! Eighteen years later, a child is finally “grown up.” While you may never stop being a child’s parent, at some point (not at eighteen, but maybe mid-twenties?) you do stop actually parenting them.
This thought brought me to the odd realization that if all goes well and my child and I both live long and healthy lives that we will have a longer standing adult to adult relationship than we have had an adult to child relationship. I ran the numbers and have to live until age seventy-two before this switch happens. With a little more math, I realized I only had to reach age eighty-six before Joshua will be fifty—FIFTY! Am I the only one who ponders weird stuff like this?< I am thrilled, and I mean thrilled to be a parent. I LOVE my son—the highs and lows, the joys, the challenges. But this is truly the biggest commitment I can imagine ever making. Aside, I suppose, from the commitment to marriage all those years ago. I’m glad I made both, and there is probably no sweet spot or “perfect time” to have a child anyway.
But the relaxing, leisurely brunches on restaurant patios sipping mimosas in the sun. Yeah, I miss that.
I would imagine that those lazy Sunday brunches will happy again when Joshua is in high school or college!