The beauty of Straddle Parenting is never lost on me. Oh, I’m the first to admit that parenting a preschooler in your 40s makes doing the same thing in your 20s look like a walk in the park. But the fact that each season has an echo to it, a repeat wave that you get to anticipate and savor, makes the new definition of tired worth it. Really.
Right now, I’m reliving the mix of delight, exhaustion, joy, and frustration that is a 3 year-old boy. Jude is 3 and that all-important half, and each and every day finds me laughing, gritting my teeth, and sighing. He is a handful, that boy. He’s full-throttle from the moment his baby blues pop open (usually 6:30 a.m.) until the exact second he surrenders to sleep, usually mid-sentence and tucked in next to his favorite naked baby doll, Scarlet (usually at 7:15 p.m.). He doesn’t nap, he talks non-stop, he fights with his siblings, he’s demanding, and he is prone to tears when rebuked. On the other hand, he climbs into open laps, draws mountains of art for family members every day, races to the door to greet everyone as they arrive, and whispers, “I’ll hold your hand,” to any injured child. He is the epitome of 3, and like every 3 year-old before him, I can’t get mad at him no matter what he does.
You see, I have a soft spot for little boys. I love little girls, don’t get me wrong. But God gave me a gift without measure in all these boys. Six of them! They are untamed little beasts at heart, every one of them. And 3 is the magic door where they shift, where their civility begins to dawn, where they are less likely to bite the kid who snatched their Matchbox car and more likely to simply wail… which is the first step to politely asking for it back. Not that the seething dragon underneath is completely tamed. Even an adult man snarls a little inside when someone puts back a potato chip bag with nothing but a handful of dust inside. It’s what makes them, well… men.
But, oh, that tiny first glimmer of the man he’ll become. Those first glimpses of passion, of self-control, of adventure. I remember 3 and a half year-old Mathaus as I look at 3 and a half year-old Jude and I am overwhelmed with the measure of trust the Lord has in me. Six men to shape. Six hearts to pour into. Six future families to bless.
Parenting is privilege and a burden, and I love it with all my heart.