One of my core beliefs in creating a valuable life is experiencing many different aspects and angles to create a rich tapestry of memories that can be reflected on later in life. Does that mean the rocking chair and stick whittling will include me thought bubbling the time when I was 42 and I had my franks and beans waxed? I sure hope so, because that memory, however absurd, is part of my own growing tapestry.
Other major memories that have not been erased through teenage years of brain abuse are the times when I was kid and I finally was allowed to participate in some of the festive occasions with my parents. Sure this included a couple of different parental marriages, but it was okay, the idea of dressing up, running around with eventual step siblings or other similarly aged kids was a hoot, and really sticks out in my mind after all these years.
Last Saturday was one of those times for our boys. My stepbrother and his now wife were nice enough to include Hudson and Tasman at their wedding. It was a lovely wedding (lovely is such an easy descriptive word, works with all things beautiful and frilly, without sounding trite. Thank you word lovely), about 100 people and hosted at the Estates of Sunnybrook, a 40 acre parcel of land with multiple historic buildings in North Toronto.
The boys and their cousins dove into dressing up, taking a real pride in their appearance and wanting to at least fake the idea that they were growing up. They were polite to all the gawking and cheek pinching from the grandparents and their friends.
*side note* It was interesting to attend a wedding of two people in their twenties. We are now firmly ensconced in the middle age group, not the oldest, but definitely not the just married or getting married group. I got the creepy uncle stare from a couple of bridesmaids.I swear I was just admiring the colour of the dress, not that it looked like it was painted on. With very little paint.
The kids were also left to roam after the formal proceedings were held. That type of freedom at a black tie event is pretty special. You mingle in and out, grabbing an appetizer here and there, talking to the adults you know, asking how they are instead of meekly responding through a veil of your parents knees. You try to act older because you were afforded this luxury and you don’t want to screw it up. At least that’s how I remember it. And I remember it pretty vividly.
The best part of the night for us as parents was watching our kids dance. It certainly wasn’t the first time our kids have shuffled with swagger, as our household regularly holds dance parties, sometimes with nary a stitch of clothing to be found.
But to see them on the dance floor displaying these moves they absentmindedly practiced for the past year or so was pretty special and very cute. The other great part was they did not mind we were out there next to them, kicking it old style with our own special version of parent dancing (no white man overbite here, I am one big chunk of funk, my wife, bless her soul, can also turn a mutha out).
Over all the boys were a real treat. And they were so grateful to be included. They looked pretty awesome too. Even my effervescent wife.
So that was our Saturday. Sunday was the start of Hudson’s soccer season. My fifth season of coaching. It was very painful and I am sure I impressed all the parents as I cheered their kids on, sweating and breathing out a cloud of second hand scotch.
Do you remember the special events from your youth that afforded you the luxury of feeling grown up? Have your kids had the chance to feel the same way?