As the mother of three
sons but no daughters, I am not really up on all the prep work
that goes into making a lovely wedding. But I know quality when
I see it, and my niece Kristin's wedding was one of the best.
Even the weather cooperated: Despite predictions of rain, the
day turned out to be sunny and 67º, with a breeze that floated
her veil like the sail of a boat headed for home port.
She and her fiancé,
Doug, had worked on wedding plans for well over a year. These
youngsters give new meaning to the word organized. They spent
endless hours working out each thoughtful detail of their wedding.
At the wedding supper, for instance, there was a special table
with crayons and toys and paper, where children could play before
they joined their parents for dinner. There was also a baby sitter
in an upstairs room, with more activities and kid-friendly videos,
so that the children could be entertained while their parents
enjoyed dancing.
There was no maid of
honor. That position was held open in honor of a beloved friend
who was killed by a drunken driver shortly after graduation from
college. At the reception dinner, each guest found a small card
announcing that a contribution to a scholarship fund in her memory
had been made in the guest's name.
Each guest also received
a CD of songs that are special to the bride and groom, with notes
of explanation in the liner.
They met in 7th grade,
when their science teacher made them lab partners. Doug had broken
his arm, and Kristin offered to take notes for him. In no time
at all, he was announcing to the world that someday he would marry
her, even though they remained just good friends through high
school.
Something happened
after they reached adulthood, however. Despite going to different
colleges and dating others, the two of them wound up together
at the altar after all.
As I said, I was blessed
with sons, but my two nieces helped to keep me from feeling too
girl-deprived. I have been particularly close to Kristin, because
each summer the family gathered at a lovely New Hampshire lake
and spent a couple of weeks together. My first memory of her is
as a dewy-eyed baby in a pink sleeper. The first girl grandchild
after four boys, she was dressed in a blizzard of triumphant pink.
Her grandparents doted; her cousins doted; and certainly her Aunt
Julia doted every bit as crazily as the rest.
When she was about
four, I recall swimming out to some rocks while pushing her along
in an inner tube, so that we could have a pretend tea party on
our "tea table rock," a flat piece of granite submerged about
six inches beneath the surface.
I remember, a few years
later, teaching her how to make dinner rolls, which she proceeded
to do so well that her grandfather declared they were better than
mine.
I remember the first
year she quietly got up from the table and loaded the dishwasher
unasked. She was quite a girl, that one. But then, her brother
and cousins were pretty good kids, too, and at the wedding I found
myself looking at each of them with a rather ridiculous sense
of wonder that they have come through the growing-up process and
emerged as full-fledged adults.
Our progeny move quickly
through the first years. The stages progress rapidly from total
dependence (not helplessness; babies who can move the world with
their lusty cry really AREN'T helpless) to the charming first
steps and words.
Next come the challenging
and annoying years (think temper tantrums and whining) and the
amazing years when they go off to school and come back knowing
stuff that you didn't teach them. I remember being astonished
that my five-year-old knew more about the Pilgrims than I ever
did.
Then comes the time
when they're just good company. I recall thinking that 10½ was
the perfect age for a boy, and I didn't think it just once: it
held true for all three of my sons.
The rebellious preteen
years aren't much fun, but the raging hormones of adolescence
are worse. The kids become disillusioned (one wit said: "When
my son hit 16, my IQ dropped thirty points.") and condescending.
Just when they're
starting to come out of it, you send them off to college. They
return independent (well, not financially) and sometimes even
seeking your advice. It's a wonder.
By the time they are
well and truly launched, they have become affectionate again,
and even appreciative. Those are the rewards of having adult children.
There are also surprises
as we discover who they have become during the first years of
their absence from the nest. One of my sons whose closet could
have qualified for a federal clean-up grant, is described by his
new wife as a neatness freak. Another son whose acquaintance with
the homely arts extended to carrying out the garbage on demand
(and demand and demand) is discovered sewing a button on his overcoat,
matchstick firmly in place beneath it to "allow the proper amount
of give for the thick fabric, of course." He makes a mean chili,
too.
Once there are grandchildren,
it's instructive to observe the likenesses and differences between
your grown children's parenting styles and your own. I'm sure
that there are many things my children have vowed never to do,
just as we vowed never to repeat our parents' mistakes.
I think that there
are generational swings in families. My mother once quoted her
grandmother as saying to her daughter (Mother's mother): "O Abbie,
don't see too much!" My grandmother was quite demanding of my
mother. My mother, in turn, was fairly permissive with me. I think
that I have been stricter with my sons, and the father of my grandchildren
is now less strict with his children (but he dresses them better
than I dressed mine, and is more involved with them than his father
was with him and his brothers).
There is a central
core of parenting, however, that remains steady. In our family,
as in most, it's a matter of respect for responsibilities, and
a pure love for your children, all mixed in with family traits
like a sense of humor, and a love of music and the outdoors and
good food.
Somehow those qualities
survive the strictness/permissiveness generational yoyo-ing, and
keep us appreciative of one another despite all the vagaries of
family life. Even when we're rolling our eyes and biting our tongues,
we know how lucky we are to be linked to each other. There are
those high moments of family excitement like graduations and weddings
and births and christenings when it all comes clear. In these
times when so many people seem to be filled with anger and hatred
and vengeful thoughts, some lucky few of us can find moments that
are full of joy and love.
God bless you, Kristin
and Doug. May your children grow up to love and appreciate you
as much as you love and appreciate your families.
