Thoughts on a Child
Erin Douglass
VisitMarch 2007
The third week of February Roxy, my husband, Jon, and I barrelled up the 5 to visit my parents in golden, tasteful Sonoma County.
Friends, family and friends of family filled 98.5% of the trip. The other 1.5% — staring at the books and magazines I optimistically packed.
Don't get me wrong. It was a fantastic time. The highlight was several days spent with my sister and her two young children: Sam, four, and Willow, one and a half. We pow-wowed at their small farm in remote Boonville for the first two visits. The final hang took place at my folks' house in Healdsburg.
As wonderful as all that together-time was, at the end of each visit I felt wrung dry. Corralling three children through the meals and clean-ups, adventures and diapers of a day is nothing like parenting a single child.
I recall my friend Susan telling me several months after the adoption of her second daughter that having two children was the Real Parenting Deal. Somehow, only having one child felt like play. I can see what she meant. Our life with Roxy is a cakewalk compared to three kids for three days.
Picture me yesterday: I am at the helm of a mini van. My mom sits next to me; a dear family friend perches directly behind. Three children under the age of five recline in their respective carseats. We are roaring down a country road on the way to The Apple Farm in Philo, a veritable Eden replete with organic cooking classes, garden paths, and jams and juices sold on the honor system.
"This is hard-core mom," I think in a singular moment of clarity between the oohing at a field of lambs and the exhorting of Willow not to fling her Richard Scarry book on the floor.
At the farm, I carry one child while encouraging another. Urge cooperation, while discouraging bad choices. Pet the resident dog, while keeping it from humping the nearest toddler. Add a house-sitter gift to the bottles of apple juice purchased for the ride back.
Five hours, tens of crumpled, snotty tissues and perhaps hundreds of crunched Joe's O's later, I am back in Healdsburg. Lying limp on the couch, I reassure myself that some of my favorite people in the world grew up as only children and they have turned out very well.