Things we know, but need reminding

With the warmer weather, most folks in my neighborhood live with their windows open, which means we are each privy to details of others' lives as it drifts in our bedroom windows while we rest. I think we mostly try to be courteous about not giving away to much, but we also try not to listen, either. The exception to this agreement, of course, are the children, who see no difference between an open window and a closed one and certainly don't give any thought to the invisible people in the houses next door. And so we hear all manner of playing and crying and squealing. While my next door neighbor was apologetic about her teething toddler, I actually enjoy it, both from a nostalgic/parental angle and from a lively-neighborhood-full-of-people-not-watching-TV point of view. The giggles and the fussing are sweet to me.

It seems to be a week of fussy babies here, though. One of the actors in the play was struggling a little with the sleep schedules (or lack thereof) at his house. It is hard, I remember, because you live inside the difficulty, so there is no way to gain perspective about whether the problem is big or small. I've discovered that this issue doesn't go away, the triggers just change and the negotiated solutions become more complex. Childrearing becomes less like a waltz and more like a tango.

So I see these parents with their young children at the park or on my street and I just want to walk up and remind them to enjoy this part while the steps are easy, and to smell their children's hair as often as they can. Small children have a wonderful, organic smell about them, like sweat and dirt and fresh air and laundry detergent. It is similar to the smell of early spring and growing things. It seems to last until they are about 11 or so and then age and chemistry change things.