April 30, 2022
I stood in a long line at an Easter festival with 2 of my 4 children. The line was for a bounce house. It seemed like an endless journey for them to experience 30 seconds of enjoyment. At the same time, I endured 30 minutes of hell trying to keep them preoccupied until it was their turn to enter the inflatable house.
A DJ was streaming music to our right. He was trying to make announcements about the current events elsewhere in the ball fields, but he was drowned out by his own music and the lack of conviction in his voice. The kids were littered everywhere like Easter eggs we would later hunt. It was sure to be a continuous madhouse throughout the day.
Such is life as a parent.
These rides and games were a staging area to placate the children until their age group's turn to hunt for Easter eggs in the adjourning field. It was a wild scene around me as the toddlers and young children thumbed their noses at their parents while running around like wild horses in green pastures. Most of us parents are firmly in place at our current position, not daring to move, thus losing our spot.
My baby boys hung on me like monkey bars attached to a jungle gym. There are worse perils for a big guy like me. My first son climbed me like a wild tree-climbing animal until he could mount himself on my shoulders like a sassy house cat. My second son clung to my leg like a Greenpeace activist hugging a tree. He cried and carried on because he wanted to sit on my shoulders as well, but the idea of trying to explain the concept of one at a time was not going to work. So, to be fair, I'd rotate them to appease the child mob. One up. Then down. It was a constant rotation.
The line nudged forward. I would take 2 steps. Stop. Wait. Carry. Drag. Placate. Repeat. And so it went.
Moms and dads have to have helicopter arms. My hands grabbed my kid's appendage, and my powerful legs lifted or lowered their tiny bodies that weighed like sandbags. This was a great workout.
Parenthood isn't easy, and in moments like this, I question myself, "Self, why did you have kids?" If I hadn't had kids, I would have traveled the world and seen things I have always wanted to see. Putting myself first. Instead, I stand here, holding my ground in this 2 square feet of space so that these 2 can enjoy some romper room fun and, later, the Easter bunny. Yes, I could say I wouldn't have it any other way. I don't know any other life other than this current one.
My kids got bored of me and scampered around the area. My body was grateful for the rest, but now my eyes continuously scanned for them. Not only for their safety, but I wanted them near because we were getting close to the entrance. Come hell or high water, their butts are getting in that bounce house.
Finally, the moment of truth for the beginning of the end of this line because my wait was over. I wanted to grab the mic from the DJ and announce it to the crowd.
<pat, pat> smacking the mic. I would blow into it.
"Excuse me, everyone. I did it. I successfully stood in this line and suffered immense mental anguish as we inched along like the back legs of a caterpillar whose head crossed the finish line hours ago. Thank you."
The boys enter the bounce house as hot as a fever on a kid who doesn't want to go to school. The boys zigzag around the inflated poles until they knock into each other, giggling as they fall to the ground. Their little bodies bounce off the floor. They scamper to the wall, and to my surprise, they climb the wall that leads to the slide. One goes down headfirst. The other rolls down in an uncontrolled fall. Both boys landed at the bottom of the inflated platform, creased the center, created the middle, and then folded into each other. <clank> goes their heads, but they laughed.
Before I could control them. They rolled off and cut the line and did it again. I pretended to be upset and apologized to the parents for their craziness. All the while, they snuck by me and did it a 3rd time. I apologized again, rounded them up, and left to see the Easter bunny.
That line was longer than the bouncy house line. My body can't withstand another 45 minutes of flipping, tossing, and having them cling to my body. I'll zone out and imagine being on a French Riviera. But I want you to know that I'm grateful for this journey and enjoying the only life I know.
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