Tuesday, September 02, 2008
Overnight gives new respect for parents
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Shanna Flowers is The Roanoke Times' metro columnist.
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Parenting is no joke.
Moms and dads play the role of heavy, having to be the "uncool" parent who says "No," when everyone else's cool parents say "Yes."
They wield the belt (or bedroom slipper), mete out bedroom detention or get stingy with the car keys to underscore the consequences of a child's infraction.
An emotional teen can cut parents to their core with the words, "I hate you!"
I admire parents who make the tough calls and endure youthful wrath in order to instill discipline and values in their children. They do so with the hope that their offspring will make the right choices when mom and dad aren't around.
But a recent overnight with two youngsters -- 9-year-old Imani and her 8-year-old brother, Rahja -- gave me even greater admiration for moms' and dads' ability to intersperse the tough-love moments with the equally challenging day-to-day routine of raising kids.
As school gets back into full swing, there's much praise to be heaped upon a mother or father who can keep traffic flowing through the bathroom on busy school mornings and convert the kitchen counter into a daily assembly line for packing lunches.
And at the end of the day, don't forget the skillful execution required to get the little darlings into bed. Did I mention serving as referee for offspring who fiercely love each other but sometimes can't stand each other?
"SHANNA!" Imani yelled as she barged into my bedroom and interrupted my phone conversation one Friday night.
Hearing what sounded to the untrained ear like a blood-curdling shriek for help, I excused myself from my call, jumped up and hobbled on my recently operated-on foot into the other bedroom.
"He keeps blocking it so I can't see," she said of Rahja, sprawled on the floor in front of the portable DVD player. "That's So Raven" was playing.
"She got more popcorn than I got," retorted Rahja, whom we call 'Dre. He pointed to the bowl containing the bedtime snack I had made for them.
I had hung up my long-distance call for this?
Inevitably, in family rooms and at kitchen tables or lunchroom canteens, parents are chuckling at me -- a childless, career woman unlearned in the way of children -- and saying, "Welcome to our world."
My counterpart in Richmond and I discussed our experiences recently. He and his wife don't have children but have been taking care of a young niece. We agreed that taking care of children is an enriching experience, just different from how we remember ourselves as children.
Having the siblings together for an overnight was new for me. Imani spends most weekends at my house. But 'Dre had never stayed over. He had been asking to join his sister one weekend, so I agreed.
Things started out promisingly. Imani willingly gave up the front seat so 'Dre could ride shotgun as we headed to a restaurant for an early dinner. While we waited for the order, Imani patiently showed her brother how to play a peg game on the table.
When the food arrived, she helped him cut up his french fries.
We left the restaurant and went to a movie. There was a dust-up of some sort between the two in the darkened theater, but I was engrossed in the movie and couldn't quite figure out the source of the spat. So I made what I considered a very parental decision: I separated them, putting 'Dre on one side of me and leaving Imani on the other.
At home after the movie, the kids took out the bicycles. They were strapped in helmets, staying within the boundaries I'd given them and genuinely seemed to be having a good time. I felt confident in my fledgling parental skills, so I called their mom.
"Well," I said with an air of confidence, "I'm surviving."
She laughed. Curiously, it was the kind of laugh that suggested she knew something I didn't. A parent's instinct, I suppose.
As dusk fell, I took the kids to get some DVDs. As we were leaving Blockbuster in Salem, 'Dre called out, "Shotgun!"
That was surprising because he and his sister had largely quietly negotiated this between themselves all day.
But there, in the darkened parking lot, "shotgun!" suddenly became an issue. Imani ran and jumped in the front seat.
'Dre pitched a minor fit that, as I recall, included pouting, stomping and fussing bordering on whining -- all of which was stoked, I'm sure by Imani's sinister laugh.
In truth, 'Dre had ridden in the passenger seat more than Imani that day, and his little fit tried my patience. So I told him to get in the back and Imani to stay put because she was there. (On second thought, advantage probably should have gone to 'Dre. After all, he had called "shotgun." Parents, hit me on my blog -- blogs.roanoke.com/shannaflowers/ -- with your advice.)
I had gotten in and was pulling away when Imani turned, peeked through the hole in the headrest and apparently made a face.
"Stop looking at me!" 'Dre shrieked, as if looks really can kill.
I told both of them to pipe down, and tuned them out with my Jill Scott CD.
By the time I pulled in the driveway, they were loving brother and sister again.
Once inside, the first order of business was baths.
Who knew that administering baths was such a hectic endeavor? 'Dre was OK with a shower. Imani announced that she had just gotten a perm and thereby would require a bath to avoid getting her hair wet.
As I get him in and out of the shower, I had to draw her bath so it wouldn't be too hot. As her water ran, I was checking to make sure he was dry and in his pajamas. At the same time, he wanted me to set him up on a computer game.
After she finished bathing, she couldn't reach her towel and was calling for me to hand it to her.
Sheesh.
I know, I know, "Welcome to parenthood."
Once everyone was bathed, 'Dre was no longer monopolizing the DVD player and the popcorn was divvied up evenly, a quiet calm settled over the house.
Pretty soon they drifted off to sleep, and I lie in my own bed. I felt the satisfaction that real parents must feel every day.
I had been responsible for two little people, and they were sleeping peacefully and safely in the next room. Ideally, they had learned from me, and I had learned one thing from them for sure.
Parenting is all it's cracked up to be -- and more.
