On my last visit home, I got together with some girls from grade school. Since I ended up at a different high school, it had been over 20 years since I had seen some of them. (Yes, I'm that old.) Wow. It was lots of fun to spend the afternoon catching up, and hearing about what others ended up doing. It was also hilarious, looking at some photos from grade school class trips. Ceilidh looked somewhat puzzled when she looked at the photos of her mom dressed up as a man for a school play. This meeting was arranged via Facebook. I had re-connected with several folks from my past via this social networking website, but hadn't actually seen anyone face-to-face.
It was also an eye-opener for me. The majority of my grade school classmates had remained in the area. Most were married, raising children, working hard or just trying to survive. Some had left, and some had simply disappeared. While we kept our conversation to familiar grounds ("remember the time...") and safe topics ("whatever happened to ..."), it was clear to me that I didn't have much in common with them anymore. They're all wonderful people, and from what I could gather, they were happy and healthy. In fact, I hope I see them all again, and others too, in the near future, rather than waiting another 20 years to re-connect. Some of the girls had brought their kids. Ceilidh called them "the boys" because she was the only girl at this gathering. "The boys" were very well-behaved, and to me, that says a lot about the parent. (Of course, not sure what *that* says about me as a parent when you meet my monkeys.)
It's not that they still live in our hometown, or that they're not all professionals. Maybe the short time we had together wasn't long enough, but I felt out-of-place in talking about my life now - as a professional living in the big bad GTA, commuting 2 hours (unheard of in my hometown), with a small family and struggling to find time to work-out. But as we chatted, I realized there was one equalizer. The kids. No matter what stage we were at in our lives, the girls were either moms or aunts or teachers. They could all relate to the issue of children, in one form or other. If not the struggles to get the kids to behave, then the joy in watching a child scramble for the soccer ball or base ball, or the irony of how we all ended up with one kid that tested our will every day (Ceilidh in my case). We laughed at our struggles of raising boys (how does one get them to stop peeing just anywhere?) and bonded over the task of getting the kids to clean up their messes.
Children are the one subject that almost anyone can relate to, either from a first-hand perspective or a theoretical one. Everyone and anyone has an opinion on kids - how to raise them, how to spoil them or not, what is too much t.v., what are the merits of all those new fangled hand-held devices that kids are glued to, how much is too much sugar for a kid, the pros and cons of food colouring, what is or isn't the best to discipline. (Also, ever notice the most opinionated ones are those who have no children?)
I love being a mother to my monkeys, even though my sanity is tested on a regular basis and there are times I wonder if I'll ever have 5 minutes of quiet time to myself ever again. I love that children can amuse so many with their antics and inspire others with their innocence and thoughtfulness. Not only are they the future, they are the common denominator in all that we do. Think about it - why do world leaders spend so much time arguing about the environment, maternal health, the global economy? There is a great need to better our world and to preserve, if not improve, the world for our future generations.
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