Every Bride Needs Something Blue

Tales Of An Educated Debutante

on life, loss and the joy that rules the day.


 
 
 
 
 




 
The future is far away and scary, but today is lovely.

Adrian H. Wood, PhD


THAT Family

THAT Family

Thursday, December 27, 2018 Adrian Wood Comments (0)

In the airport today, we were THAT family, the one with the parcel of children, three well-behaved and one not.

He put on quite a show, wreaked havoc at the gate and to put it lightly, caused a great big scene.

I love our family, but it’s not always easy being us.

It’s not always a joy, belonging to him.

Five year old Amos is the youngest and though his older brother whizzed by on a scooter, Amos was strapped unwittingly into a jogging stroller.

Most of the time, he appreciates its cocoon space, but today, he wanted nothing to do with our suggestions.

No ice cream.
No playing chase.
No blankie.

Not just an ordinary no, but a grand NO, and there we were, the other five, alternating between interceding and hiding, smiling wryly.

I refused to cry.

He was insistent to get on the airplane and the concept of waiting baffles him. Though he can wait a few minutes now, grand progress, he behaved as only a hungry newborn should.

All that kicking and screaming seemed amplified in the cavernous terminal, modern with its metal and glass, grossly interrupted by the writhing too big boy in saddle shoes.

For the first time, I understood why some families choose to stay home.

For an hour or so, it was hard to tell if it was worth it- a lot of trouble to pack up a person who thrives on routine and sameness and adores his own crib and being at home.

Just to be a spectacle on a lovely afternoon.

I think that’s the hardest part. Everyone watches, quietly, and though a few smile, far more appear to be horrified.

Not only by the child, but the mother who must appear a terrible pushover.

After all, between crying spells, he slithered on the floor, rubbing his warm cheek on the cool stone, trod upon by thousands of traveling shoes, while I perused Facebook.

I long ago stopped worrying about his wallowing, but small town life has insulated me from the stares and frowns that travel with foreign spaces outside our county lines.

Perhaps the world’s not used to children like Amos.

I know he can be a lot, but the best things in life, they never come easily.

And my Amos?

He is a diamond in the rough, worth the trouble.

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