I will take Not Talking about this for $200, Alex

I will take religion and politics ANY DAY over parents talking about naps. Tea Party? Jihad? Bring it on. Just promise me you will not make repartee about how much or how little your child naps/napped/will nap in the future. Tossing the nap hand-grenade into any conversation at any time is the most contentious, divisive weapon ever employed in a social coup.

"My Marigold never napped!"

::Other parents look askance, wonder why Marigold's parents never read handbook on epic napping::

"Well my Petunia still naps and she's 33!"

I have endured this conversation at least half a million times. And it gets less interesting every time, such that it is now so uninteresting to me, it is in the realm of negative interest. If the nap conversation were an IRA, the fund managers would be getting fired or trying to find a ponzi scheme to get in on, the interest is so immeasurably low.

And it isn't even a conversation. It is more like a collection of monologues with lightning bolts and raised eyebrows being thrown from every parent pundit. It is all so judgey, the nap note-share. It is a poor excuse for conversation/competition. It is a convertition.

In the nap convertition, the parent who was most victimized by a napless wonder is the winner. The parent who triumphed most by a napful wonder is also the winner. Everybody wins because everybody thinks his/her story is the only story. The only narrative that matters. And yet, we are talking about naps. Naps that we didn't take. So we are all losers.

Every parent has one. A resume of nap accomplishments.

Here's mine:

Stay-at-home mom/Part-time grad student 2008-2010 First child  Ambivalent napper, sensitive to noise Sleep trained at 6 mos. Gave up nap age 2.

Full-time teacher 2010-2012 Second child Lovely napper, could sleep through cowbell parade Still needs to be rocked to sleep Sleep trained, sort of Can still be persuaded to nap at 3 but will never fall asleep at night if naps during day

I think I should print out the above so that I can just hand it to the nap convertitionists and end the convertition right then and there. Parents, feel free to share your resume so I can file it accordingly. Heh.

Now let's stop talking about all this malarkey and move on to any other topic. How about Jimmy Fallon. I can't stop saying Ew. Nap convertition? Ew.

SIX

Dear Daughter, who turns six today, Always take the long view.

Step back. See the big picture. Be circumspect. Dream big about your future, because, Baby Girl, it's going to be a bright one. Don't become so entangled in the things that demand your attention right.this.minute. You can miss all the beauty of the horizon; you can ignore a skywriter writing your name across a big blue canvas.

Take the long view because it's the hard view to take. If, in the middle of a New England February six years ago, when every orifice of my body was leaking from bringing forth this beautiful baby girl into the world, someone had told me to squint my eyes and think how small this moment was on the trajectory of child-rearing, I would have handed that person my soaked-through pajamas and cackled like a mad woman. At the time, it all felt so heavy and magnified. But that moment is so far from me now. Now you and I go to paint-your-own-pottery on a Saturday night and have big chats about what color to paint our coffee mugs.

***

Baby Girl,

Always take the short view.

Step closer. Examine the paint strokes. Stand in awe of the footnotes of creation. Hold a tiny caterpillar in your hands. Hold captive the attention of an otherwise distracted millennial. Don't be so intimidated by playing the long game. You are only this close to the ground for a short time. Enjoy proximity to the roses; be a part of the the small daily miracles of tying shoelaces and climbing trees.

Take the short view because it's the hard view to take. If, while examining your dimpled knuckles and smelling your intoxicating baby smell, someone told me that someday this same child would school me in dinosaur species and multiplication tables at the age of five, I would have wept. Those moments are a part of our days right now and my thankfulness for your strength of mind, character, and body is beyond words.

Today you are six. Daddy reminded me that your lap around the sun is not officially complete until much later tonight. We are holding the sand grains of time cupped gingerly in our hands, but we stand powerless to let them escape and catch flight. What impossible profundity is this gift of life where we stand frozen in this sacred moment, while holding eternity in our hearts. You enrich it all, the long view, the short view, six-times-six-times-six-fold.

Happy Birthday, Baby Girl.

Love, Mama

Lucky

There are two times when other people tell me I am lucky. The first is when I tell them that my husband and I "trade shifts" and don't have a full-time nanny with a British accent to rear our progeny when we are working outside the home.

The second is when I tell them that I don't have to pay taxes because I am too pretty for all that. "You're so lucky!" they cry, opposing finger and thumb propping up their jaws. I know, I demur, it's just that Uncle Sam and I have an understanding, you see...when you look this good, you are considered a natural treasure, you know?

 

But back to the part about my good fortune in picking a mate who is willing at times to stay home with at least one of our children while I go to work. Apparently, according to many, many people, this makes me lucky. ME. And I know this. I am lucky because I like my job and it is ever so much easier to teach a 90 minute class on interactive online journalism without two little talking turnips asking if I can help them with the Netflix again. I am lucky for that.

You know who else is lucky? My kids. They get loads of facetime with their daddy who enjoys rough-housing and playing a game called "trap challenge" of which my uptight introverted ways do not really permit me to engage in readily. They have a special rapport with their father and they have a strong attachment with both parents, which I've heard is a valuable thing to carry through this life full of hollowness and quagmires.

Oh, one more person is lucky, though! Guess who? Wow, you're good. It's true, my husband is lucky to be both a father who can spend quality time with his children and also do meaningful work outside the home. He did not have a father who was able to do this with his children. My husband tells everyone that he loves his time he loves going to the gym during the day, going grocery shopping when the aisles are not blocked by the rush hour crew.

We hear you, Universe. We are aware of our good luck in this arrangement.

Even though sometimes this arrangement stinks. The part no one remembers is that when you have two parents of young children "trading shifts," the two parents are rarely home TOGETHER. Together to have a fluid conversation, or a meal, or a hug. Or, you know. wink wink. Because you are flexing your hours in every which way, you are often working late into the night.

Trading shifts also requires that one parent is the "birthday party parent" or the "room parent" or the "family ambassador of all social gatherings" which is fine except when people do that nervous thing where they don't know what else to ask you at the birthday party so instead of saying, "Wow, it's GREAT to see YOU! How have YOU been?" they choose not to treat you like a whole person but only half of the whole and immediately charge into, "Heyyy, where's your husband?" Or your wife, as the case may be. That's annoying, isn't it? Even though you know it's not malintentioned. You know what I mean? You know what I mean.

This arrangement of the present is still infinitely better than the way we lived formerly in Boston where Loverpants held down 3 jobs and I had all these graduate classes and adjunct teachings and newborns to feed and toddlers to not loose in Target and--WOW, that life was cray.

What it all boils down to is that any person in this great wide world who has an even wider number of choices as to how to pursue his/her life as a parent or a pilot or a pizzamaker or a piano player or all of the above (at once!) is incredibly lucky.

To have choices makes one lucky. Also, having: an education, family supports, community resources, healthcare, and a number of well-fitting pairs of Spanx also make one especially lucky, as well. But that all is another conversation for another day.

For now, I consider myself lucky to call you a reader and friend.

Luckily yours, Kendra