Today was a parenting throwdown that started at 5:39 a.m. with a text, ran in and out the doors of many gyms, scored a few goals, committed no fouls, and made sure no one was thrown out of the game.
And I am exhausted.
It was easier on me when I was younger and when my kids were actually kids and not adults. Then, I let fly with whatever I was thinking. When one of my kids got in trouble, I had an immediate reaction. Delay, introspection, consideration — all stuff for the uncertain, people who didn’t know the right thing to do. Me, on the other hand, I always knew the right thing to do.
Today, I must have said ten times, “I don’t know the right thing to do.” So not knowing, I spent long periods silent, chose my words as if they’d be on a headstone for centuries, let my judgements sit on the back porch by themselves.
I was wise today. I wish I had been this wise when I was raising my kids. But nonetheless, I am wise enough to recognize wisdom when I see it. And cherish the thought that age has taught me to replace confidence with contemplation and certitude with doubt.
I played the long, good game. I’m glad.