The Other Side of Childhood
Last weekend was a good one. We took a trip with some of our best friends and their kids, our first family vacation with friends. We drove to the edge of Yosemite and spent the weekend outdoors—hiking, playing at the lake, and taking in the fresh pine air.
Saturday morning was gorgeous, the perfect day for a hike. After applying sunscreen to little faces and tiny arms, and helping/teaching a child how to pee in the woods, we set out on our casual stroll through nature—two little babies strapped to the moms, and five more little kids under 4 years old.
We trekked through the woods, herding our little pack like cattle, making sure no one touched poision oak or went too close to the edge with the river below. A fire that came through the area a year ago left hundreds of fallen redwood trees, blocking the pathway. The four parents had to climb over these huge trees and then lift all seven kids over—dozens of times. After an hour and a half (and only a few meltdowns from tired kids), we made it to the waterfall. The air was cool and crisp, a little slice of heaven.
Until I remembered we didn’t bring a backpack, or snacks...or water.
Thankfully our friends did—so we sat there by the river sharing 4 water bottles, 3 apples and a bag of chips among 11 of us. It felt like Jesus feeding the 5000. A modern day miracle of sorts.
Not too long after we got there, Selah started getting hungry. Along with all the other things, I also forgot a bottle to feed her. I decided to start the long walk back to the car with her, hoping she would fall asleep as I carried her.
This is about when I began feeling some cramping. “You’re fine.” I kept telling myself. But they slowly got worse and more intense until I felt like I was back in the labor + delivery ward, in active labor, thinking “I could take an epidural right about now.” Except I’m hiking, in the woods, by myself with a baby strapped to my chest, vaulting over redwoods. I can’t tell you how many times I stopped, hunched over, praying that Jesus would help me make it back to the car so I could take some medicine and lie in the fetal position.
We did all make it back alive. We ate sandwiches packed in a cooler, the kids drank Capri Suns, and I took Infant Tylenol out of a syringe because #desperate
It was hilarious and sort of awful and so memorable. The kids had scraps on their legs and dirt caked on their faces. They were tired, and they were very happy.
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This trip was another one of those moments as a parent where you’re baffled at how you got on the other side of the equation. It was not too long ago that I was that kid running around on vacation with my brothers or my cousins or friends, coming to the table when some adult yelled “dinner is readyyyy!!”
Now I’m the one creating a meal plan and schedule, shopping in bulk for Costco snacks, rounding up kids and rubbing in sunscreen, calling “It’s time to eat!” to everyone upstairs, reminding kids that it’s bedtime and they need to close their eyes, hours after they should’ve been asleep. I cook and clean and count heads. I help set the tone and create the space for childhood memories to happen.
What a huge responsibility.
Also, what an honor.
This weekend I got to see my kids’ faces light up in the morning when I told them “Today is the day!” of our long awaited trip. I got to watch them play with their best friends, hear their funny conversations float down the hall as I cut vegetables and assembled little lunches. I got to make the food that filled bellies, and tuck kids in after a day spent in the sun.
Honestly, it’s a lot of work.
And honestly, I love it.
I love being on the other side of childhood. Stepping into the shoes of my parents, my aunts, my friends’ moms. I have a newfound gratitude for my carefree + fun childhood. I love that I now get the honor of creating that magic for a new generation.