M has been playing house in her pretend play for a long, long time. Recently, in the last month or so, she has named herself a husband. Brutus. Where she got this name, who knows. I always assumed we would play names of our friends. She has had a huge admirer over the past year. But no, it’s not him. My son-in-law is Brutus. Brutus is a construction worker, turned handyman, turned jack of all trades, including logging in many hours on his computer. Doing what? I don’t know. M and Brutus have 3 girls, too. It’s M’s job to take care of them. Taking time off from her fashion designing. M takes all of her kids to swim lessons, karate, to the babysitting room while she goes to work out, and to school. She drinks her coffee in the car while listening to music.
I’m honestly afraid of some of the things that might come up in play.
It’s very interesting listening to her play by herself. Her daughters occasionally fight with each other, and she referees them. And I hear sternness in her voice when she corrects them. She is very loving to her babies, which is a comfort to me. Hopefully, she thinks I’m loving to her, too????
S doesn’t do a lot of pretend play. She expresses a lot of things in her drawings and stories. Happy faces, very sad and mad faces. Storytelling in an abrupt and non continuous flow. But it’s all there when I’m asking about it. The person is mad because they were not allowed to choose a MarioKart character by themselves. This person is feeling anxious because the nightlight bulb went out while she was sleeping. Life imitating art, or art imitating life. There is less of a where it begins and how it ends, but more of a this is what is happening in the middle.
I saw this couple today in the parking lot at the grocery store. I’d say in their 70s. Plain old nasty to each other. They bring 2 packed carts to unload to the car. I was parked next to them, unloading my own car, wondering why they needed so much food? Wife asked what was in the bag he was passing her. He went off! ”How the hell am I supposed to know what is in there. I don’t have x-ray vision. Open the damn bag and look at it youself. Hell, you were the one who bagged these.” It went on for awhile. To the very end. He put the cart away, and came back to open the door, it was locked. Then they start yelling at each other. And I can’t back out until he gets in the car, so I’m left waiting….listening.
What’s the point of this anecdote?
I often wonder what we leave behind for our kids, in the present. I see how they play out in their work, in their play. But life is not always happy happy, and marriage most certainly is not. It’s a lot of work. And if so far, we are able to pass off to our kids that we are a loving married couple with these 2 kids, great. But how do we go from that to that couple I saw today? We have fought and debated in front of the kids. We don’t yell and scream at each other, but kids are perceptive. They know when things are amiss between their parents. I want them to know that these relationships are work, with a lot of give and take.
Seeing a lot of things lately have been bringing tears to my eyes. That story of the father who fell trying to catch a ball at the baseball game for his son dies. Seeing the video that his son went back to the Rangers ballpark, and threw out the first pitch at the Divisional Series Game. Baseball pitch caught by the player who originally threw the ball up to his father right before the fatal fall. Today, that crazy 15 car wreck in the NASCAR race. I saw a picture of the driver who died, after he won a race in May, with his wife, toddler son, and tiny baby. What will they take with them from their parents?
As my parents get older, I no longer take their presence here for granted. How long will they remain in my girls’ life? What will they remember of their grandparents?
I guess, I’m just wondering of what kinds of legacies we are leaving behind. Do I want to be remembered for kissing them every night and singing a little tune at bedtime? Or do I want to be remembered for bringing my daughters to tears because she forgets to bring her homework home.
I know this isn’t the most pleasant of subjects to be thinking about. But it has been weighing heavily for a little while now with me. Thought it might help to put it out there.
