Contentment

Is it perhaps a truism that growing up is really just about growing content? And if that is so, do we ever get there?

At bedtime tonight, James was in his reflective Eeyore mood. ("Why does nothing ever quite go my way in life?") He began our conversation with, "Mom? Sometimes it seems like as the oldest I have extra responsibilities and can never be quite good enough for you and Dad." That's it, James. Go right for the gut.

I decided a direct approach was best this time. "You know, James, you're right. We are harder on you. We have higher expectations. Some of that isn't fair, but you know, with you, Mom and Dad are just learning, too. We haven't figured out how to be good parents to a 9-year-old yet. Maggie and John benefit from our experience. I'm sorry that sometimes we are too hard on you."

"But you know, James, on the other hand, you do get extra privileges as the oldest, too. It works both ways."

"Like what?"

"You can't think of a single thing that you get to do that your siblings don't?"

"Well... I guess... I can go on rides at the amusement park that they aren't big enough for."

"Yes...And you can ride your bike on your own up to the pool for swim team in the summer. And when you and I were in Meijer yesterday, you could go on your own to another aisle to find something." (Okay, I am reaching here. But surely there are better examples out there. Maybe I will have a future blog post listing these, so I have a more ready arsenal.)

Fortunately, James was feeling forgiving tonight. "Yeah, I guess you're right, Mom. Every spot in the family has its advantages and disadvantages."

"Yes, that's so, James. You know, John gets frustrated by being the youngest. Every day when I you and Maggie off at school, he gets upset and asks why he can't go to school with you, too. 'I'm big enough!' he insists to me every time. And then, when I try to tell him that he gets to go to his own school, that isn't quite good enough for him.

You know, last week, when I took him to his preschool, he got really insistent that I 'just drop him off.' At first I didn't realize what he was asking for, but I didn't pay much attention, because the preschool has a rule that a parent has to walk in the child and get them checked in. But he got very upset when I tried to park. I finally agreed to drive right up to the curb, next to the door, and 'drop him off.' He went in by himself and felt very grown up and satisfied. But he would rather be big and go to school with you."

[BIG ASIDE: Dropping John off is a story in itself. I will finish that at the end of this post. ]

James thought this story was funny. He grudgingly agreed that being older wasn't always the worst. But clearly, he still thinks he is overworked and underappreciated. Probably so. And we make him wait for all kinds of privleges that the younger kids get right along with him at the time, like watching certain movies or hearing certain books. On the other hand, the books that Jeremy reads to the kids at night are almost always most interesting to James (and Jeremy). John and Maggie are left to like it or lump it if Mom won't or can't read concurrently. (Even then, poor Maggie gets caught in the middle because she wants to hear both Narnia and John's picture books.)

So the take home message for me? Back to the opening paragraph. Do we ever learn to be content with our lot in life? It seems mostly not. We are wired to see the injustices of our position, not the privileges and gifts. I suppose a big part of maturing, for adults as well as kids, is learning to be less grumbling and more grateful. I'll make a note of that for myself this week. No promises to post on how I am doing, though.

[And now, the other story. Dropping John off at preschool:

For the record, I did park after dropping him on the curb, and I followed him in, just to be sure he got in okay. It is a small lobby and not too much trouble for him to get into, but rules are rules, right? I was a bit startled by the astonished (disapproving?) looks from the other mothers as I came in, not 60 seconds behind him. 'Oh!' they said, 'we asked where his mom was and he said you just dropped him off and we couldn't quite believe someone would do that!' (Nervous laughter.)

No, I didn't actually leave my 3-year-old to check himself in. Although, it turns out, I could have. He really is big enough. By the time I got in, he had removed his coat and backpack and hung them on a peg, with his boots tucked neatly underneath. He was pulling open the big door to go into the gym and join his class with nary a backward glance. And, I find it ironic that this group of mothers might judge me for it if I did, since one of this crew had left her infant alone in the car for over 10 minutes in the parking lot a few weeks earlier. I noticed the little feet kicking in the seat as I brought John in. I stood there waiting for someone to go right back out, but no one dropped the conversation and headed out during the time I waited. Finally, I left, and the baby was still there. I turned around and headed back in, because by now I was thinking, "Surely  she can't belong to any of those moms because they wouldn't leave her that long. Maybe someone working in the office had one of those nightmare mistakes where they forgot to leave the baby at daycare on the way to work." Now the other moms were on the way out and, seeing me return, asked if I had forgotten something. "No, I was just checking to see who that baby belongs to." I got a very breezy reply from one of them, "Oh, she's mine. Is she awake now?" Creepers! Given that it is now illegal to leave your kids in the car alone in Michigan, did I just aid and abet a crime, not to mention support highly questionable parental judgement? So anyway, being judged by these moms for letting John walk in alone is a bit irritating. I decided not to take that to heart. ]