You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
Mary Oliver
So I’ve managed to scrape together two important things to know when you’re a parent. First the 80/20 thing. Pareto must have been a parent because I’ve realized that 80% of the time the I love my kid and love being a parent. And then 20% of the time, or at least that’s what it feels like, I’m about to kick myself, or him, to the curb. That’s where the yoga breathing comes in.
I took Angus swimming for the first time and felt so bad for the teacher. There were only two boys in the class but man, it was like herding cats. And not regular sane cats, but nutty insane cats. Cats on PCP. There were lots of the people in the pool, it was noisy, there were a zillion distractions and my kid was not grasping the concept of “teacher” and breaking every rule. I was mortified. That was a 20% moment.
But it all comes out in the wash, because 2 or 3 classes later I had relaxed a little and Gussie seemed to be hearing at least every third word the teacher said. I noticed there was a little red haired boy shivering and crying in the corner. Poor guy. And I thought heck, at least Angus is having fun even though he’s half listening. But see the red-haired kid probably sits for hours at home and colors. He probably tells his Mom he can’t wait to clean up his toys. My kid spends more time imitating the Tasmanian Devil. So it all comes around. That’s the other thing I know from parenting.
And then there was the screaming girl. She’s about 5 or 6. She was the only one in her class and maybe that was by design because the teacher would hold her to help her swim and the girl would scream at the top of her lungs, 4 inches from the teacher’s face, “STOP STOP PUT ME DOWN STOP STOP!!” Nonstop. For the full 30 minute lesson.
And the Mom was sitting on the side of the pool looking like she wished the concrete would open up and swallow her.
But see her 80/20 might be different. Because I’m sure this little girl is a handful alot more than 20% of time. But I think for this Mom the 80/20 might be over her daughter’s lifetime. Because I look at that girl and think, my god if they can channel even some of that chutzpah, that I’m-gonna-tell-the-world-what-I-think-dammit, she will save babies. Millions of them. She will fix world hunger. And that’s no mean feat when I read that the price of medium grain rice in Thailand doubled in price since last year. Her mother will watch her win a Nobel prize. And hopefully it will all be worth it for her then. Because it has a way of coming around.
Here’s another example. Parenthood comes with a bunch of them. My kid was playing with a neighbour kid we’ll call Will. He bit my kid so hard it broke the skin. It was like a baby vampire mark. It was wild, I’ve never seen anything like it. Did it upset me? No way, cos I know things come around. I got him settled down, we talked it through and they went back to play.
Sure enough, Angus traps him in the Tickle Trunk (you Mr. Dressup fans know what I’m talking about). He stands on the lid and then the trunk collapses, crushing a screaming Will inside. Yup, they were even. One kid in need of a tetanus shot, the other in need of some therapy. It’s all comes around.