It is an unfortunate thing to be the oldest. Everything that Davin does is new and thus it is unfamiliar territory. I find myself constantly wondering if he is okay, if he is normal, if this pinching phase will continue, if I'm handling his tantrums okay, if I'm fun enough, if I'm too hard on him, if I'm disciplining him enough, etc. There is a fine line between allowing too much and not enough and I'm not sure where it is at. The saving element is being around other wonderful parents who are also blazing the way through the maze of parenting. I think that I should start a young child support group. We would all sit in a circle on folding chairs and someone would start with: "My name is... and I am a parent of a young child." We would share stories about our experiences in this role and a group moderator would ask us about our feelings. Actually, this really does happen, even if it isn't in an official capacity. A few weekends ago, we were late to church. We spent the day before dragging our kids around Charlotte, looking for houses, and I had slept in a little that Sunday morning. As we were rushing to get ready, Davin fell apart and refused to wear his shoes. After several minutes of coaxing our irrational toddler, we finally got him the car with his shoes on. Arriving twenty minutes late, we spent Sacrament Meeting in the foyer on the couches. At one point, Davin ran down the hall, attempting to escape us. I scooped him up and carried him back to the couch when he threw his head back and smacked it into my jaw. Stunned, I threw him onto the couch and was immediately embarrassed by my reaction. Rowan started to fuss, so I took my leave of Davin (leaving him with Chris) and headed for the mother's room on the opposite side of the chapel. In the other foyer sat my friend, her husband, and three girls. I took one look at her face and knew that we had had the same morning. Her five-year-old asked my friend to dress her that morning, but already burdened to get herself ready and the two other girls, she told the five-year-old that she was old enough to dress herself (something the child does regularly) and the little one fell apart in an emotional heap. In the meantime, my friend's husband was on the hunt for an errant mouse that had found a nice home in the cupboard below the sink where the garbage can is kept. The garbage can was removed, revealing to the five-year-old and the three-year-old its contents. On the top of the pile of refuge was their art projects from the day before. My friend said that the girls produce a new stack of art projects each day, but the girls were distraught to see their precious work discarded. Needless to say, they were also late to church and spent their Sacrament Meeting in the church foyer as well. I relay this story because my friend is an amazing mom and her daughters are among the best behaved that I have ever known. My friend is on my list of people I want to be when I grow up. Later that evening we had dinner at their house. The three-year-old fell asleep on the couch at 5:30 PM. Not wanting her daughter to be until midnight, my friend woke the child and she howled for 40 minutes afterwards (again, she is a perfectly angelic little girl!). It was at this moment that I realized that we are normal. It was an absolute relief. At times when I am concerned about the current Davin phase, it always happens that I find a parent who is going through the exact same thing. Somehow we will survive this, parents of small children! I do feel badly for Davin, though, because when Rowan goes through similar phases, I have gained wisdom and perspective in handling him. I know that what Rowan is doing will soon pass, so I don't get nearly as concerned about it. I try to apply this mellow attitude to Davin as well, but it is still a challenge for me.
Actually, I have to conclude with some reflection on the lovely aspects of having Davin and Rowan around. It is easy sometimes to comment on what causes anxiety instead of reflection on the moments of joy as well. Tonight we went to a friend's house to celebrate their three-year-old's birthday. Davin got a party favor, the kind that you blow into, thus inflating a curled roll of paper into a suspended stick that retracts when the air retreats. Davin was delighted with it, especially when he figured out how to make it work. He could barely produce enough breath to inflate it because he kept giggling every time he tried. Yesterday we went to a party at a friend's mountain home to celebrate her engagement. The day was a little rainy, the air was crisp and damp. Davin was like a wild creature, running around in the tall grass, his cheeks ruddy and his pants damp to the thighs. Holding Rowan is enough to make me happy. He curls up in a little ball and giggles when I blow kisses on his cheeks. These gentle moments are times of therapy as well.
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