James, Molly and three-month-old Jack hosted Rob and me in Petaluma last weekend. We walked a trail in the bird sanctuary, dined on Mexican and Italian and steak (courtesy of James' grill), visited wineries and - of course - drank wine. Lovely and growing Petaluma sits near the wine town of Sonoma, so a fifteen-minute jaunt to a favored winery seemed appropriate. The tasting experience, a unique and decadent feast for the palate, delighted me, though I remembered the next day that I can no longer drink wine!
James and Molly handle new parenthood with casual ease and the little guy reflects their calm and seems to possess that same calm in spades. I couldn't help but reflect on my very different, type-A style of parenting my first-born, telling tales at my own expense about the spreadsheets that I kept on her every movement, my ironclad devotion to naptime, and her stubborn refusal to ever take a bottle. Aden, if you're reading this; I'm sorry I was not more relaxed! But then, I wouldn't change even the tiniest thing about my daughter, so she must have survived my paranoia intact.
It struck me forcibly that Rob and I are nearly a generation older than James and Molly, that our struggles with teens and pre-teens leave babyhood receding quickly in our rear-view mirrors. How quickly that leaf turned, how remarkable that we have no strollers, carseats, high chairs or baby toys around the house. Instead we have sporting equipment and bags to hold it, back packs and electronics, board games and young adult books. But our three kids are still our babies, and always will be.
Family Moab
In Arches National Park
No comments:
Post a Comment