Reflections in a Soap Bubble

Image via Wikipedia

It’s winter break around here and yes—Jonah’s pre-school is closed for the week. We were hoping they might reduce the vacation by a few days because of all the snow days we’ve had, but that was not happening. So I worked on Sunday as well as on my weekday off (Monday) and will get a few more hours in around my husband’s schedule, managing, it seems, put in my 20 hours so I won’t have to take any more vacation time.

Until spring break. That’s in April.

I always have such high hopes for the time we’re going to spend together but then reality sets in: It dawns on me that we’re not the only ones off for school vacation. There are lots and lots of families, all seeking out diversion and making just about everywhere interesting a madhouse.

I’m not much for crowds, and I have to battle this a bit for Jonah’s sake. Kids like to be where the action is, but too much is too much, even for them. When you’re at a kids’ museum and everyone’s fighting over the giant bubble wand, the fun factor rapidly decreases. So it’s important to choose wisely.

I think I may just call one of the pre-school moms tomorrow and see what they’re up to. One of the things I love about Jonah’s new pre-school is the number of parents with whom I actually feel comfortable and can have a conversation without feeling like a space alien. Don’t get me wrong: I’m willing to endure a bit of not-quite-connecting-ness for the sake of a playdate for Jonah, especially if he really enjoys the company of a particular kid. It’s just that I’ve found—and I don’t know if this is regional or universal—that some parents can be a bit judgmental about where you live or what you earn or how beautiful your house is and thus determine that your child and their child shouldn’t play together.

Or am I imagining this?

It’s funny, because life, really, is a process, but we continually ignore this. We take a snapshot of someone and decide that’s who they are: He’s a retired guy who spends all his time making pottery. Or She’s a middle-aged bank manager. We forget that we’re all on some point of a continuum, that the retired guy and middle-aged bank manager were not always retired or middle-aged or even bank managers, and that the way we appear now to people who don’t know us very well is not necessarily who we are.

But that’s a little bit deep for a playdate.

I’m still not sure what, exactly, we’ll be doing tomorrow, but I hope it includes lots of snuggling and reading together—two of my favorite activities. Because our time on this continuum is short and fleeting; little-kid snuggles, big, big hugs: these are things that quickly become memory.

Special note for local yokels: In the print edition of the New Haven Advocate you can write in Old Mom, Young Child as Best Local Blog, so if you enjoy what you read here, please do. (I also encourage you to write in kidHaven as best local website.) Sincere thanks!