A New Bittersweet

Many years around this time I have mentioned here that my brain goes into a bit of a weird place during November and early December.  It would go into a sort of darker, melancholy mode--not sad, per se, but just a little more somber because apparently my brain associated this time with finding out I was pregnant for the first time and the weeks that followed it.  I found out right after Veterans' Day, and we were so nervous about a possible miscarriage that we went all the way through Thanksgiving, our mid-December Disney trip, and all of the Christmas season before spilling the beans to our families at their respective Christmas celebrations.  That time was really hard because I was dealing with a massive mental and physical struggle, and it coincided with a cold, dark, and depressing time of year.  Obviously we were thrilled to be pregnant, but I was scared, tired and nauseous all the time, and I felt like I was living a double life before we were able to tell people.  Everything in my brain was constantly processing the excitement and fear, and my body was fighting the physical effects, so it felt so hard to keep that all inside and pretend everything was normal.  I struggled through work days due to the exhaustion, but had to push through or risk telling people.  I felt it was better to suffer in silence at the time because having to tell a lot of people if something went wrong later sounded equally painful.  The longer we went into December, the more comfortable I felt and the more exciting it got, and I felt immense relief as we exited the first trimester, which was right around the time our Disney trip cured me of my nausea and other first trimester blahs.  I still had a couple week or so of secrecy after that, but it got easier from there.  Anyway, my brain has often taken a cue from this time of year and resurrected those conflicted feelings as the darkness of November closed in.

Last week I realized I hadn't had any of that this year.  There was some nostalgia around Veterans Day, looking back at my Chihuly photos from that Pittsburgh trip, but it didn't really lead into that month-long somber mode.  Maybe it was because I was preoccupied with more real, physical health concerns rather than the just weird places my brain likes to go when it's bored, but I was surprised when I realized November was almost over and I hadn't really felt that bit of dark dread that usually comes this time of year.  It's a good thing, for sure, and it's about dang time (16 years later!) but it just struck me funny.

However, I think I have a different bit of nostalgia creeping up on me.  Lately it's been really bittersweet to see little kid photos.  Definitely of my own kids, but even other people's kid photos have given me pause.  It could be current photos from friends or family with littles, or it could be other people's memories of their now-grown kids who I remember being little.  I think two things are happening.  First, in regard to the latter group, I think it's just validation that all of our kids are growing way too fast and it serves as another reminder of the big kid stuff that's coming.  I see them dealing with things like college and letting them go off on their own, and it's scary because I know how quickly it's coming for us since it doesn't seem like that long ago that their big kid was tiny, too.  It's also another reminder that my time with Carter as my little buddy is getting to be really limited, which makes me sad.  This evolution, even of other people's kids, has been shockingly fast, and it's so bittersweet to see these memories and know how quickly the transition happened.  Time is a thief, for sure.

As for the group that has current little kids, I think there's some wistfulness for simple pleasures--for the magic and wonder of little kids who are still figuring out the world.  While I know there's a whole host of other problems, insecurities, and exhaustion that go along with those early stages, I can't help but be a little jealous of their position just starting out.  There's blissful naivete on the parents' part and a wide-eyed newness to everything for the kids.  Almost any given day can be a memory, adventure, or photo opportunity with little kids because there's always something new to do or discover.  You never know what new milestone they'll hit or when something like a holiday will finally resonate with them.  Once you have big kids, it usually takes something significant for them to simply crack a smile or even allow their picture to be taken.  I suppose it's much more special when it happens, so that's nice, but I've just found myself a little bowled over by the reality that those early stages are so far past now. 

Their pictures are also a reminder of a time where my kids' needs could be more obvious and easy to manage.  There may have been more of them, and they were harder to get through when inexperienced and sleep deprived, but their problems often involved a simple, momentary transaction - food, a nap, some hugs, a toy for distraction, etc.  It may not have felt easy at the time, but now our problems feel big and life-altering.  Every parenting decision seems critical.  Older kid parenthood means you don't know how to help them with their problems and are constantly second-guessing whether you need to help them or whether this needs to be a life lesson that will make them a better adult.  And in either case, will they feel like you abandoned them in their time of need?  The craziest part is that each kid is different and what works for one may not for the other, so these big kid problems never seem to get easier. 

With little kids, there's also a comfort (even if you don't recognize it at the time) that you have lots of years with your kids to fit in all the things and teach them everything you need to teach them.  We don't need to do that outing today or learn this life lesson this time around--there will be plenty of opportunities for that, right?  Time didn't always feel like a positive, of course--sometimes life dragged mercilessly.  But once they get older you realize time is short and panic sets in a bit.  Did we do all the things?  Did we make the most of those memories/experiences/phases?  What do I still need to teach them and will I have enough time to solidify it in their brains before it is real-life tested?  

As a really silly example, I'm currently freaking out at the prospect of packing away a bunch of Carter's toys, and especially his books.  It's about that time that we transition away from the little kid stuff, and once certain things get put away, we're officially into a new phase of life.  It's sort of crushing because we have so many memories of certain toys or books, and it's hard to admit that phase is over and give them away or pack them away for the next 15-20 years.  Or conversely, sometimes it feels like we didn't do justice to certain things, like must-have toys that didn't get played with that much.  I hate that feeling of wastefulness and missed opportunities.  Mind you, I suppose I've set myself up for more of that because more recently I've resigned myself to the fact that some gifts are given more for the moment of receiving them than anything else.  Parenthood goes so fast and in recent years I've gotten desperate to hang on to the magic where I can.  COVID probably started that, because we got extra desperate to make a magical holiday despite being stuck at home in 2020.  The Santa magic has faded a little more each year as the kids have aged, so I have to work a little harder to counteract it now.  That means that sometimes gifts will be a little less practical and a bit more fun.  This year that's going to be the case for a few of the kids' gifts--they may seem ridiculous on the surface, but it's stuff I know they want and I want them to have the "Christmas morning moment"...even if the long-term impact is more minimal than I'd like.  And someday I will put them away or donate them knowing that it may not have been worth it in the long run, but the moment was hopefully nice anyway.

I think another element of this is for me is that there's always mourning for the good moments we didn't have.  We had so many struggles--Jacob's behavior and medical issues, Carter's school and screen struggles, the sibling rivalry--which sometimes left our memories to fall a bit short of expectations.  We have few pictures and fewer memories of Jacob in big brother mode when Carter was born because he simply wanted nothing to do with him.  There weren't many opportunities for organic photos of brotherly love or playing together.  I never had those warm fuzzy moments where the big brother helped his little brother or gave him a hug.  Their relationship might be better now than it's ever been, thanks to a couple shared interests, but we never got those moments when they were little and it hurts sometimes.  There were also a lot of things we didn't do because we couldn't trust one or both kids to behave, be it vacations, those fancy family photo shoots, or simply getting together with friends.  Our first trip to Disney, for example, was such a mixed bag.  We had good memories but so many included really hard, trying moments.  I'm glad we healed some of those these last couple years, but still, it wasn't what it should have been.  We've missed a lot of moments that I've seen other people have with their kids, and we can't get that time back.  There are so many things I'd try to do differently if I had the chance, even though in reality I know we were in survival mode and at the time we didn't feel like we had much choice.  I think you just take for granted that things will work themselves out someday, but sometimes you realize the window closed and it never did work out quite like you hoped.  Sometimes the alternative is fine, too, but there will always be things I regret.

To that point, a few weeks ago I was in deep thought on one of my walks, and I pondered whether we missed an opportunity at some point to move to Buffalo, and what that might have looked like.  It's come up lately because Jacob always looks for "greener pastures" (especially with basketball) and when he's in an "I want to transfer schools" mood, he brings up moving to Buffalo.  Deep down it's something I always wanted to do because we'd be closer to family, which would have been great for bonding and babysitting when the kids were little, and now especially as our parents age, but there never seemed to be a good time.  It would have made a ton of sense to do it before the kids were in school, but we were never in a position to confidently quit our jobs and do that.  Nowadays, I have transferable skills in a specific career that always has openings, and I bet Craig could get a different job within the Pegula sports empire if he needed to.  Jacob has zero qualms of switching schools again (I know, I can't even), but it would kill me to do that to Carter because I know how badly he'd miss his friends at this stage.  I'd rather not uproot our entire lives, but if basketball gets desperate or some other factor points us there, it's something we'd consider.  But it was something we always sort of thought might present itself sooner, and poof, that time evaporated and now it would feel so monumental to rebuild our lives in a new but familiar place 20+ years into our life together.  I guess we just sort of took for granted it would eventually happen, and it didn't...so now what?  And I feel like a lot of parenthood can be like that.

I think my point is that you start out parenthood with all of these expectations, and then life just happens.  Some expectations are met, some aren't, and some go through some twists and turns we didn't expect.  Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans, right?  You spend a lot of parenthood trying to get through the days, in survival mode in the midst of trying to plan out life in the short term and long term.  And at some point you come out of the rush, even for a moment, and take stock of things, and it's shocking to realize how fast it all went.  Case in point, don't even get me started on the pandemic and how the whole world seemed to go on pause, apparently with the exception of kid aging.  When we emerged from it all, my kids were in completely different stages than they were when it started.  I'm still having trouble processing that and how quickly these four years have passed. 

So, now I see pictures of these cute little kids and it often triggers me to mourn for times gone by.  It also leaves me with regret that I didn't enjoy it more in the moment.  I can't beat myself up for it because, again, so much was survival mode, but sometimes I wish I would have given myself more grace, seen more of the fleeting beauty, and known how precious those times were.  There's a wise quote from the character Andy Bernard in The Office--I've probably shared it before, but it applies here--“I wish there was a way to know you're in the good old days before you've actually left them.”  Sometimes we're just so rushed or overwhelmed, or conversely, all the days are simply blending together, and we don't realize how important some things actually are.  I have times over the course of my life that seem so simple and insignificant--regular old evenings at home as a kid, wrapping up dinner and watching TV with the family, or quietly studying with my roommate on a regular day at college--that evoke this sense of peace and simplicity.  They weren't outstanding, just steady and simple moments that made up a lot of how I spent my time in those periods of my life.  It turns out somehow they were memorable in their own way, and in fact were part of the good stuff.  And I know that parenthood is going to turn out much the same, that even the mundane moments will take their own place among the big ones as something special, if only because they didn't last very long.

I'm grateful for the journey, for sure.  I appreciate this blog for highlighting those moments and being there to remind me of all the things we have done, even if it doesn't always fulfill my expectations or look like I thought it would.  I heard the other day that our brains tend to throw a little "pixie dust" on our memories and I can confirm that's probably true that the bad stuff usually eases over time, and the good parts stick with us a little more.  I do have lots of photos and memories from when my kids were little, but I suppose it's like anything else--when you have something good, you can never really get enough.  The more the merrier, and I guess maybe what I'm mourning is less that my kids are grown--after all, the big kid versions are pretty cool sometimes--and more that we won't get any more of those precious little kid moments and memories that just hit different.  Maybe that's why Disney has been so fun for us--it brings out the little kid in all of us and extends that childhood feel a bit.  

I honestly don't know how to prevent myself from getting lost in the day-to-day and help myself appreciate the present more--God knows I don't need more pressure on myself--but I'm trying.  In the meantime, I hope I can just be happy for those in my life who are still in the little kid phase and use those photos as a reminder to rediscover and appreciate my own precious memories.