Epilogue

I was thinking about this blog recently and realized that I should be honest about the outcome, given that the purpose of it was not just to explore our world through issues surrounding children but my own thoughts about having kids.

This last September, Rob and I welcomed a little girl into our lives.  The decision to have a kid was never concrete and even upon finding out I was pregnant I was unsure.  The pregnancy journey was not fun and those women who think it is mystify me.  What made it especially challenging was that I developed an overgrown fibroid which started to die and the pain I endured from that was even worse than labor.

Currently, we’re 4 ½ months in and, obviously, much has changed since she was born. Having a child isn’t for everybody and you won’t find me advocating for it or against it because we’re all on our own path.  Life gets turned on to its heels after a child is born.  You go through such a shock to your system that there’s nothing I can compare it to.  I don’t remember the first 6 weeks, arguably 12, but I, obviously, survived and got through it somehow because I’m still here.

This might be weird to say but I would’ve been ok with not having kids.  I had a full life before and felt that I had purpose.  I wasn’t seeking to fill any void and can find it annoying when people say, “I don’t remember life before kids.”  That may be true for them but I certainly do and, honestly, I sometimes miss it.

But having said that, knowing what I now know, I can’t imagine my life without our daughter.  If I were to lose her, I would suffer.  She makes me understand the world a little differently, if not more deeply.  This doesn’t make me a better person than someone who’s childless, by any means.  I liken it to teaching: I was always sympathetic to the plight of teachers but didn’t really understand their world until I became one.  I could understand a parent before having a child myself but only up to a certain point.  As a parent, I understand patience more deeply (although being a teacher helped).  I understand fearlessness and sacrifice where I’d do anything for her without question.  I also understand love on a level I didn’t think someone like me was capable. These don't make me a better person now (since I think I was pretty good before), but I’m already a stronger person because of them.

There are a lot of fears now – oh the fears! – and worries and concerns.  I’ve already had countless moments where I’ve questioned the reasoning behind the choice to be responsible for another human being.  I look at all the hatred people have for each other, all the judgments and lack of responsibility, and my heart aches that we brought an innocent soul into this mess.  A mess that I will have to try and explain one day when I don’t even understand it all myself.

But then I look at her.  I look at her face, her eyes, her smile.  I hear her giggles and now emerging laugh, and somewhere deep within me there’s a flicker of light, of hope, of faith, if you will, that shines telling me that in the end it’ll all be OK.  That the foundation we’re building for her will help grow her good heart and soul that you can already see.  She may witness darkness enveloping our world but my hope is that she’ll see its light is greater.  The lack of sleep, the worry, and all of the concerns that come with this territory of being a parent is a microcosm of the larger picture on Earth.  These things may seem dark in the moment they’re happening but her smiles, giggles and laughter are the light that shine greater than any dark cloud could ever try to cover.  There’s so much focus on the negative aspects of having a kid and of all that you lose.  I know because I sang that tune forever. But what about all that you gain?  I can’t say what this is exactly because it’s different for each of us.

Life is nothing but stages that we go through and the challenges of each stage are what make us stronger individuals.  I may have been unsure before but there’s no doubt in my mind that I will be eternally grateful for choosing to go down this road.  Challenges and all.

A Bittersweet Reinvention

12.22.2010

I’ve been slowly getting ready for our traditional Lithuanian Christmas Eve dinner which, a couple of weeks ago, I was debating on whether or not I even wanted to do. It’s a lot of preparation. Growing up, we’d all be assigned different tasks in order to make the dinner but, now, it’s all on my shoulders.

I decided to do it because it’s the only thing I have left connected to my childhood. Not having any family in the States anymore (other than my sister but I’m the older one…) so it’s kind of up to me to follow through on any traditions. But what’s sad is that those traditions, as they stand now, are hanging by a thread. I’m having a rough time with this. When you’re a kid, the adults figure it out for you.

My mom, sister and I would always go to Chicago for Christmas. Very rarely would we not, so by Thanksgiving, there was a trip in the next month for which to plan. I looked forward to the travel and to the prospect of having an actual white Christmas. I’d see my extended family, get to eat my grandmother’s pancakes, and stay up late. It’s been many years since this and I’ve been floundering. At least for a while my mom was still in the States and we’d go to Lithuania for Christmas or my grandmother would fly out here. Things were different but we could at least pretend that there was some sort of “normalcy” to how they were before. But then that stopped and I haven’t been able to figure out what’s going to happen. Every year this time comes around and I have no idea what to expect. Honestly, I don’t know why I really care because Christmas is a fabrication of the Church to stamp out paganism, but, whatever the reason, it still makes me sad that there isn’t a definite plan that I know of ahead of time.

Part of me tells myself that things would change if kids were in the picture. I think parents want to create a similar experience for their kids and so family traditions, rituals, etc are created or brought back. And I’m OK with creating our own new traditions and rituals but this makes me feel scared. It’s one more example of getting older, of life moving forward and a separation from my past. This space that I’m in right now, and have been for a while, puts me in limbo and the unknown is always scary. I don’t know when I’ll next have a Christmas with my mom and my grandmother, if at all, and so I’m left to reinvent this holiday for myself and my (new) family. As much potential as this might present, it’s bittersweet. But in life, I guess, that’s nothing new.

One Needs a Core

12.16.2010

A friend of mine has raised three grown sons and she told me the other day that she still has to remind herself that she is, in fact, a mom.

This struck me because I was under the impression that at some point in one’s life, quite possibly when you have a kid, things just click in to place. Not that you have everything figured out but that you, you know, grow up and that somehow having a kid makes you smarter. I know that may sound silly and/or may not make much sense but one of the reasons I’m scared of having a kid is because I have trouble seeing myself as “an adult.” Would having a child make me lose my sense of play? Would I lose my sense of wonder as I was bogged down with the responsibility of raising another human being? Would I see myself differently?

Perhaps there’s some truth to all those questions and that, yes, a part of my current definition of “play” would change or my sense of wonder would change as I witnessed the world through my child’s eyes and, yes, I suppose I would see myself differently. But we are all individuals before the child comes into our world with our own set of interests, likes and dislikes and though some of that may alter over time, I think the core of who we are remains the same post-child. What I’m starting to realize is that many of us have difficulty recognizing the movement of time and that the wistful days of our youth have long gone. Life moves forward, and that’s OK.

They're Moody, Dramatic and Amazing

11.30.2010

I’m going to come off smug today. OK, especially smug. I know that there currently are parents with little ones who find it difficult to believe, let alone accept, that their sweet, little, perfect angel will, in about 10 years, become a ball of unrecognizable hormones who will be capable of inflicting (emotional) pain (to his/her parents). I’ve seen more than one set of parents be in complete denial of the reality of who their child is and it’s not pretty. There are aspects of working with teens that I love but they are teens. And just because they’re your teen, doesn’t make them completely innocent and angelic. I value those parents who see and accept their kid for whom they are, the good and the bad. Because, dear parents, teachers see it all.

I read an article in Sunday’s, LA Time’s Parade Magazine about teens.[1] And now to be more smug, most of the info wasn’t news to me, having taken an adolescent psych class before but, nonetheless, it was an informative read. One of my favorite scientific discoveries from the past 10-15 years is that our brains continue to develop into our mid-20s. No wonder it wasn’t until my late 20s that I decided to get serious about my life. Up until then, my brain wasn’t capable of doing so (for the most part).

Here are some of my favorite quotes from the article but, one more thing, before I continue: Those of you with kids, keep in mind that none of us are immune to the following sentiments or incidents:

“I would rather give birth to a baby elephant than raise a teenager again. It would be less painful…I cannot believe that my darling, sweet little girl has turned into a 16-year-old stranger who just wants money from me all the time.” – Renee Cassis, NY.

It’s not “only the rebellious kids who suddenly turn on us…When my friend’s son – a straight-A student and all-around sweetheart – recently ended up in the hospital getting his stomach pumped because he went out drinking with friends for the first time and had no clue how much was too much, that’s when I realized: There is just no predicting.” – Judith Newman (article’s author).

“When a child turns 12, he should be kept in a barrel and fed through the bung hole, until he reaches 16…at which time you plug the bung hole.” – Mark Twain.

I believe that, as parents and anyone looking to be a parent, you do yourself a disservice to not educate yourself on the biological changes that occur in teens. And I don’t mean the obvious (periods and erections) but I mean the changes in brain chemistry. Knowledge is power. Teens need to learn their lessons and appropriate punishment should be given but if you know what’s going on physically, then it helps to understand from where your kid is coming. Teens don’t have that part of their brain that registers “consequences” developed yet (it doesn’t fully form until your mid-20s!), so if you keep that in mind, you can take some extra time and figure out a way to explain the consequences that happened after a bad decision was made. Teens need to understand and they can understand, it just takes more time and patience.

Then, once that’s done, consider investing in some good winery’s stock for a few years and pour yourself and your spouse a glass and count the days until college or he/she moves out.

---

[1] http://www.parade.com/news/2010/11/28-inside-the-teenage-brain.html

The Road Less Traveled By

11.09.2010

I know that most of us fear change. Habit, however good or bad, gives us comfort and stability. I’m no stranger to being a creature of comfort. What I’m also no stranger to is fierce and radical change.

I think I’m the only person I know who’s lived in the same place for 27 years except for maybe my grandmother but even that’s questionable. I also think it’s strange for a child to live in the same place he/she grew up instead of a parent raising a family in one place and staying there until an assisted living-type of situation occurs or death.

In 2006, Rob and I discussed moving and even went house hunting on and off for two years but despite my occasional interest in a house, there was much resistance on my part. Leave my rent-controlled apartment? (Notice I said, “my.”) Move away from pretty much the only place I’ve ever known? Are you serious?

When I quit my job two years ago, we still looked around because the hope of me finding another job was still high. But the economy tanked and I’ve only had a few temp jobs. Needless to say, we stopped looking.

About 12 months ago, an emotional shift within me began to grow. I realized a few months ago how stagnant I feel. I also feel that Rob and I can’t grow emotionally as a couple if we continue to live here much longer. I grew up in this apartment. My family was raised. My memories are embedded in these walls, and it doesn’t matter how many times I change their color or repaint them or rearrange the furniture, the tentacles of my past restrain me.

I’ve reached a point where I want, where I need some sort of a major change. I swear I do everything backwards because couldn’t this realization come to me three years ago when I was working?

Earlier today I found myself meditating on this topic of change particularly as it pertains to work. The notion of “change” led me to think about a friend who’s pregnant and another who went into labor today. I thought about pregnancy and how that would certainly classify as “major change.” This made me think about the growing baby in my friend and caught myself with a smile on my face instead of the usual look of repulsion I have. Pregnancy and the physical change it produces still terrify me but I was in a rare moment of vulnerability when thinking about it.

I don’t know what the future holds but I also know my pattern and when I seek change, it’s radical, it’s unconventional, and it’s almost always life-changing. Leave my rent-controlled apartment? Yes. Move away from pretty much the only place I’ve ever known? Yes. Are you serious? Very.

Have a kid? “Break the rules, go with your heart, the world is wide and anything…anything…can happen.”[1]

---

[1] Advertisement slogan, 1997.

The Relationship Is Not Ours to Own

11.06.2010

Two sentiments: some people come in and out of your life but will make an impact and children are only given to us on loan.

On an errand, I passed by the junior college I attended and memories from that era popped into my mind leading me to think about a close girl friend I had. We played on the volleyball team together and at a time when my other teammates shunned me she accepted me. That time-period was a dark one in my personal history and the iron wall I built around me made the others uncomfortable. But this friend looked beyond the wall and helped me along my difficult road back to life.

In the grand scheme of things, we were friends for a very short time, about a year and half, ending mainly because I couldn’t maturely handle working two full-time jobs, my transfer to UCLA and keeping up with the schedule we established like staying up all night (which sometimes included driving to the beach and crashing a private beach club, midnight runs to Rite Aid and the like). I stopped returning her calls thinking I’d deal “tomorrow” until that “tomorrow” never came and she pulled away completely. Still to this day, I miss her.

These memories prompted me to think about the sentiment that kids are merely ours on loan. We raise them, sure, but we (shouldn’t) don’t raise them to live with us forever. We shouldn’t have kids to fill a void in our lives but should have kids as an addition to the life we already have. The truth of the matter is, though, they won’t be there every day, every moment for the rest of their or our lives. They will one day walk out of the front door to be on their own and will leave behind the memories of the years gone by, along with the anticipation of new memories to come.

We become friends with someone because for whatever reason, paths crossed, there was a click and the journey began. But sometimes a fork in the road brings that journey to an end. That friendship was given to us on loan. In fact, one could argue that any friendship or relationship is just a loan and to accept this loan is a big risk, for better or worse.

Would I reject my friend’s friendship were I given an opportunity to go back in time knowing the pain I will go through when the friendship dies? No. I am a richer and deeper person for having had her in my life.

Nothing is permanent. Is it fair to reject the idea of having a child because of fear of pain (emotional or physical)? There isn’t one thing in my life that I would alter, either good or bad, because those experiences (still) shape me. A temporary experience created continual change. How different is having a child?

42 Things That Change with a Baby

10.14.2010

A friend sent a link to the following article and I thought it was a good read for those of us who are childless and are contemplating changing that status.[1] I wanted to write my own comments under each number but that wasn't feasible. Some numbers I disagree with (like #1; I try to stop and take in a beautiful flower, sunset, rainbow etc whenever I can already), (#12; I should’ve been a doctor because bodily functions fascinate me, especially blood and wounds), (and #14. I don’t care what is said I won't become a morning person. I wasn’t even a morning person when I was a baby. Ask my mom who would wake me up.)

Forty-two things that change when you have a baby

by Rebecca Woolf

Last updated: June 2009

What changes when you have a baby? A better question may be: What doesn't change? Here, writer and mom Rebecca Woolf lists her most notable post-baby observations. Then scroll down to read our favorite comments from readers about how their babies changed their lives.



1. You finally stop to smell the roses, because your baby is in your arms.


2. Where you once believed you were fearless, you now find yourself afraid. [See a reader's perspective in #22, below.]

3. 
The sacrifices you thought you made to have a child no longer seem like sacrifices.

4. 
You respect your body ... finally.


5. You respect your parents and love them in a new way.


6. You find that your baby's pain feels much worse than your own.


7. You believe once again in the things you believed in as a child.


8. You lose touch with the people in your life whom you should have banished years ago.


9. Your heart breaks much more easily.


10. You think of someone else 234,836,178,976 times a day.


11. Every day is a surprise.


12. Bodily functions are no longer repulsive. In fact, they please you. (Hooray for poop!)


13. You look at your baby in the mirror instead of yourself.


14. You become a morning person.


15. Your love becomes limitless, a superhuman power.



And from our readers...



1. "You discover how much there is to say about one tooth." — Ashley's mom

2. "You finally realize that true joy doesn't come from material wealth." — Anonymous


3. "You now know where the sun comes from." — Charlotte


4. "You'd rather buy a plastic tricycle than those shoes that you've been dying to have." — Sophie's mom


5. "You realize that although sticky, lollipops have magical powers." — Roxanne


6. "You don't mind going to bed at 9 p.m. on Friday night." — Kellye


7. "Silence? What's that?" — Anonymous


8. "You realize that the 15 pounds you can't seem to get rid of are totally worth having." — Brenda


9. "You discover an inner strength you never thought you had." — Ronin and Brookie's mom


10. "You no longer rely on a clock — your baby now sets your schedule." — Thomas' mom


11. "You give parents with a screaming child an 'I-know-the-feeling' look instead of a 'Can't-they-shut-him-up?' one." — Jaidyn's mom


12. "Your dog — who used to be your 'baby' — becomes just a dog." — Kara [Many readers begged to differ, saying things like, " I disagree with number 12. My dogs are my additional children," "Nothing about previous babies, whether two- or four-legged, changes when a new miracle comes along," "My dog will never be 'just a dog," and "This is sad to me. My dog is still my baby too."]
13. "You take the time for one more hug and kiss even if it means you'll be late." — Tracey


14. "You learn that taking a shower is a luxury." — Jayden's mom


15. "You realize that you can love a complete stranger." — Dezarae's mom
16. You find yourself wanting to make this world a better place. — Arizona
17. If you didn’t believe in love at first sight before, now you do! — Ciara
18. You start to appreciate Sesame Street for its intellectual contribution. — Anon.
19. You have to quit watching the news because you see every story from a mother's perspective and it breaks your heart. — Brooke&Boys
20. You just plain love life more - everything comes together and becomes better because of one tiny person and your love for them. — Anon.
21. You finally find out the real reason you have those breasts. — Anon.
22. In response to #2 [above], I'd say that where you were once afraid, you're now fearless. I was always very timid and shy and let myself get walked all over … but now where my kid's concerned, I'll speak my mind and really connect with my inner "b"! — gummismom
23. The support you get from other people surprises you, because the people giving it are not always the ones you'd expect. — japanese_macaque
24. Nothing is just yours any longer. You share EVERYTHING! — DylanLsMom
25. No matter what you've accomplished in life, you look at your child and think, "I've done a GREAT job!" — Anon.
26. You want to take better care of yourself for your child. — Treasor
27. You can have the most wonderful conversation using only vowel sounds like "ahhh" and "oooo." — littlehulk2008

---

[1] http://www.babycenter.com/0_forty-two-things-that-change-when-you-have-a-baby_1452535.bc?scid=preg_2_20101014:2&pe=2Uza9oW

A Room with a View

09.22.2010

If you’ve read past entries and remember, you know I’ve lived in my apartment for 27 years. As a result, I’ve lived in every bedroom at different points in my life so you can imagine that I should know the view from each window pretty well. But, as this morning proved, I don’t.

Before going on my walk, I decided to be good and stretch. While stretching my quads, I looked out of the window and noticed that I could see this one house’s attic. It took a moment to realize that that’s what I was looking at and then I was taken aback. How many times did I look out of this same window and how did I never see an attic?

Then, while on my walk, I reached a street that’s on my route and, for reasons that don’t matter, decided to cross it and walk on the other side. I started to notice scenes that I had never seen before. I questioned how after 31 years of living in the same town, how did I never notice certain building’s designs and architecture, windows, colors and shapes?

By this point in the morning, I had two examples of looking at something I saw for decades and it appearing different. This got me thinking. What if I shifted my own kaleidoscopic perspective on having kids and looked at it through different shapes and colors?

So I did.

I imagined we had a kid of about three and he was in the car with me singing his ABCs from the backseat. I imagined our daughter asking “Why?” after anything and everything I said. I imagined her being held by Rob as he swung her up and down, giggling.

I then imagined midnight feedings, diaper changes, and temper tantrums. I imagined holding her hand at the doctor’s office as she got a shot or feeling bad that I worked late and missed bedtime. I imagined feeling both scared and elated for his future and insecure of my decisions. I imagined family gatherings and family vacations, and even alone time with Rob talking about all the silly things our kid says and does.

This exercise made me think about how it doesn’t matter how conservatively or liberally we live our live. We are creatures of habit; we like our patterns and rituals. It’s hard to force yourself to look through the same window of your life and see something different because we often don’t pay attention to the details. But when it happens, whether consciously or by accident, the experience offers an awakening to the fact that there’s more to life than the daily grind.

The conclusion to my kaleidoscopic shift of a possible future with a kid is –

Well, let’s say that I liked what I saw. Poopy diapers and all.

What Color is Your Sky?

07.01.2010

I really didn’t want to write today. At one point I tried to convince myself that it’s because I’m just exhausted with this topic. To be (a parent) or not to be? I mean, really. Why is it so hard? All I’ve ever done is make things more complicated. When most people answer “Blue” to the question “What color is the sky?” I’m the one who answers, “Shades of periwinkle, pink and purple.” I mean, why can’t I just say “blue” and be done with it?

At another point today I thought I could just make up an issue to write about but that quickly proved to be more work than I wanted to put in.

So I’m buckling down and writing the truth because…the reason I started this blog was to explore my emotions, thoughts, opinions, etc and I’m not benefiting anyone, most of all myself, if I don’t include all my emotions, thoughts, opinions, etc. Right?

I was on the bus today coming back from physical therapy for my back when a young woman, maybe even a teen, walked on with a baby and her friend. This got my brain on a rant about teen mothers and blah-blah-blah. I looked at the girl’s baby, a little boy of about 8 or 9 months, and…it got me thinking. (A very dangerous thing.)

“What is your problem?” A deeply recognizable voice from the dark corridors of my imagination asked.

“What do you mean?” I asked innocently.

“You know you’re going to have a child. So what are you waiting for?”

I said nothing hoping that my silence would make this crazy voice go away.

“You are one day going to be in your 50s with or without children. So either way you look at it, life is moving forward. What are you waiting for?” This annoying voice continued.

“But what about my writing and a life of creativity?!” I yelled.

“What about it?” The voice shot back.

How the hell am I losing a battle with my own self? I thought.

I eventually got off the bus and wandered back to my place with odd scenarios playing out in front of me such as me with my own child doing various, fun things together. And for a brief moment, and I mean a brief moment, I let myself enjoy those thoughts.

I often talk about how our society is dictated by fear. How we allow our fears to make decisions for us and how we allow those fears to rob us from living and experiencing life in the moment. I myself have asked people What are you waiting for? in reference to their wanting to start something new but are too scared to (like a new project, losing weight, taking an art class, etc). Each decision can be transformative – for good or for bad – but regardless, it’s one more level of learning (about ourselves).

I decided I wanted to make movies when I was 3 and at age 8 I discovered writing and decided that that’s what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I am obviously doing neither and the odds are strongly against me that either will happen professionally but it was only 4 years that I became serious about my writing and filming. And what I’ve learned in these last few years is that I am doing exactly what I always wanted to do even if I’m not getting paid for it. And I’m happy. Adding a child to the mix wouldn’t be easy and frankly that terrifies me. But I have tasted what it’s like to have a creative outlet for myself and I’m hell bent on never losing that. To give that up would be a sin and unforgivable for me. Therefore, just like anything that’s important, I’d have to figure out a way with Rob where I’d be able to keep the writing and any little film projects on the side because it’s what I need in order to keep going. The 9 to 5 brings the money…but my outlet is writing and filming.

I’m not quite ready to take the plunge…but I am getting slightly closer to answering the question, What are you waiting for? Even if it means complicating my life even more. But then, that’s quite familiar territory.

You'll Figure It Out

04.15.2010

A strange phenomenon has started to occur. I’ve been writing this blog for a little over a month now and I’m starting to see a transformation within my thoughts when it comes to thinking about children. I still have all the fears and concerns and a sense that I’m going to completely lose my identity, but there’s something that has started to continuously counteract those thoughts. The following words pop into my head: You’ll figure it out.

I have always been so terrified of making mistakes because of my own obsession with perfection, as well as just the “normal”, societal pressures of being perfect. Everyone always says there’s no guidebook to really tell you how to parent. You can read all the baby books beforehand but you’re never truly prepared for it all. And I would imagine that each situation, each child is so unique that it’s virtually impossible to be prepared ahead of time. And I think this is one of the major reasons as to why it’s so difficult for me to come to a definitive answer, or rather, definitive commitment to having kids.

I’ve always been a planner, the one to take charge in any situation so that the job (or whatever’s needed) gets done. One would think that with this quality so strong within me that it’d be natural for me to want to run out and be a parent cause I could then plan, schedule, and organize not just my life but another person’s as well. But that’s just the thing. I’m a planner and a take charge kind of person because I’m so unbelievably scatterbrained and usually running around like a chicken with its head cut off. I have to take charge and I have to feel like I’ve accomplished something at the end of the day otherwise I’m lost. In other words, I can barely take care of myself. I have to actively work at it and the thought of having to “take charge” of a child and to be prepared ahead of time for the child’s needs really scares the shit out of me.

But I guess…I’ll figure it out. Somehow. Right? Cause…what’s the alternative?

Potential Memories

03.15.2010

On my walk this morning, I was thinking about a conversation that I overheard yesterday between two men who were talking about their respective hometowns back in Texas. There was one thing that was mentioned that really stuck out for me and not because it’s some brand new concept that I’ve never considered, but, let’s just say, I sort of saw it from a slightly different angle.

The two men were talking about how whenever they go back to the towns in which they either grew up or in which they spent many years of their lives, the town had drastically changed from when they lived there. I’m sure most have experienced something similar where you go back to an area you knew well and it’s changed. The store you used to frequent is now a parking lot or the house in which you lived is now an apartment complex or a completely different house. This is the natural progression of things and no one is immune.

But this idea of going back and visiting a place from your childhood, for example, really stuck with me. My hometown isn’t too far from where I currently reside and, yet, the idea of going and visiting makes me nervous. I’ve been a few times since I moved from there in the late 70s, but it’s probably been over 10 or 15 years since I’ve gone back to visit. And that time was probably the first time since I left. But when I think about that place, the little apartment my mom was renting across the street from the park, I have incredibly fond memories. And this made me think about the possibility of creating fond memories for and with my own child.

This was a rare moment. I imagined having a child sit on my lap and to whom I read a bedtime story. Or holding his/her hand down the street as we tried to catch up to the butterfly that fluttered from one flower to the next. Or sitting on a park bench sharing a sandwich. These priceless moments can’t be manufactured or planned. These kinds of moments are spontaneous and become not only enriching, but help in defining one’s soul. Serving as a mere guide to the world as it exists now is reciprocated in a child’s eyes and imagination when he/she shares his/her insight with you. You can’t get this from another adult. And for a fleeting moment I caught a glimpse of a possible future of having all of those potential memories created. It would be nice to have new memories created with the same richness that I have of those days with my mom.