Yesterday a man shows up at my door and tells me he’d seen my babies walking, and he wanted me to know there was a registered sex offender in our neighborhood. A new one. He showed me a picture. I told him Yeah, you could look that stuff up online and all the local crime too, which I had done. He was surprised (OUT-SAFETY’D, SUCKA!!!) but then returned to talking about this guy. He kept reiterating he saw my babies walking and he thought he’d talk to me. My babies. I wonder how he knows where we live. Then he says he was trying to get the sex offender OUT of our neighborhood. He says, “Why don’t they knock on doors and ask around, ‘Do you have kids?’, and ask if it’s okay if a sex offender moves in?” I have no words. Just, no words.
I thanked the man for his concern. I closed the door. I feel oddly depressed. Later the kids and I had a little talk about strangers and walking about.
Life goes on.
Now this evening it’s dark out and I know where my kids are, but I’m a wee bit uneasy. It’s not related to the guy who showed up yesterday but he didn’t help or anything. It’s as if, at a certain point I have this tingling sixth sense. I walk outside with the dog and see my kids across the street, returning home in the company of an extra kid (who is now here and staying the night). It’s like I don’t rest easy until once again I see my children safe. The kids, all three, run up and inside and make up bowls of dinner (pork fried rice and green beans) and get to some cleaning up: vacuuming and doing the dishes. Phee is soon on her laptop and giggling, playing online with friends.
I wonder when I’ll get used to how sufficient, how competent, my children are. Today they packed up their swimsuits and towels and went out with my mother to the lake. Before they left I asked them to do some housework, and they cheerfully obliged and got the kitchen cleaner than Ralph or I generally do it, talking the whole while to one another in meme-speak, almost unintelligible. At a certain point I just kept adding on suggestions, feeding the cats and sweeping, and can you put this away, and that, and they did these cheerfully enough, since they knew they were off to the lake as soon as I was off to my volunteer shift at the gallery. It’s like I worried all these years about teaching my kids life skills and I have some kind of anxiety hangover.
Sometimes besides feeding and snuggling and taking the kids where they want to go, I don’t know what else I’m supposed to be doing for them. They are exceedingly happy and well-balanced and perfectly okay asking me for whatever they want, which means each day is an opportunity in trusting in something greater than myself. My ability to plan, manipulate, execute.
Family life is a lot easier than I used to make it.
#goodnight
A baby is a baby is a baby. I am a paranoid mom now that the weather is cooler in the mornings and I stuff Humnoy in a puffy-sausage casing jacket because I want him to be warm. Lo and behold, the sun is beaming still in Seattle and he asks to take it off.
I can’t imagine how I’d be when they can go walks on their own. I should probably implant that tracking device now, methinks.
@Laotion Commotion, don’t treat that state of mind as permanent or a forgone conclusion. There is still time for you to learn to relax, to breathe, to trust. The real statistics on child abduction and other violent crimes are actually quite reassuring. They have been declining for decades despite the resurgence of parents choosing to give their kids more freedom to roam.
Clearly this guy expected a different reaction. Profound gratitude? Shock? For you to run down the street waving your arms frantically overhead, calling after your babies to come home and never leave the house again? Gotta wonder what people are thinking sometimes. I am grateful to live in a neighborhood where I know my neighbors, and they are pleased to hear the ruckus of kids rolling down the big hill on bikes and scooters, where people look out for each other, etc.