Every Wednesday evening for a number of years, while my three children were growing up, our family would hike at the Morton Arboretum. We had a routine: Park at the Big Rock Trail and hike to and from the said ROCK. The trail is a 1.5 mile loop with a large boulder conveniently placed about half way through the hike. The Big Rock is really not that big. It is however bigger than the children we brought there. Three children under the age of four, needed to burn off a LOT of energy. That was one purpose of the Wednesday evening mile and half hikes.
The kids would race, push and trip all of us to the Big Rock. The trail offered different scenarios: snow covered drifts, popping blue bells, oppressive humid heat—and my favorite—crunching colorful leaves.
Our two older children, just 15 months apart, led the adventure. Being so close in age, they were each other’s playmates, partners in crime and inseparable growing up. The youngest, by two and a half years, struggled to keep up with his siblings.
I wish I could say, that my husband and I lovingly watched our three children scramble up the trail. But I believe we were both just grateful the children were occupied and we didn’t have to carry anyone!
The Big Rock was the middle of the hiking adventure. Once someone got to the Big Rock, the rule was everyone had to wait at the base until all of us were there. Then the adventure of climbing the Big Rock began. The older two always scrambled up the Rock on their own.
My little guy inevitably had to wait for his father to help him. Then, the four of them stood on top of the rock declaring their victory. I never once tried to climb the Big Rock. In our family I am the unathletic of our gang. I was happy to watch. At that moment, the other adult in our family could be responsible for the safety of our brood.
One day, toward the end of his fifth year, the youngest decided to change the rules. Maybe going to school made him realize he did not have to be the baby? I am not really sure why on this particular day he decided to exert his power.
He raced ahead with a stick in his hand protecting the Big Rock and demanding that his siblings not come near. He declared, “I’m in charge now. NO One is allowed past my magic sword!”
He swatted at his sister and brother as if his life depended on it. He wouldn’t let anyone climb to the top until he had the chance to scramble up the Big Rock first and on his own.
I wish I could say we were the perfect parents and spoke to our older children about letting their younger brother win once and awhile. I wish I had said something like, “In life, it is important to look out for each other and let others win…”
BUT I think the reality of the situation was that as young parents we were REALLY tired. We usually let the kids work things out on their own, not because we had discussed this parenting strategy, BUT because we were overwhelmed with the day to day of raising a family.
The youngest did make it to the top of the Big Rock that day. Maybe not on his own. Probably with the help of his father and the older two siblings jeering, instead of cheering, him on. I don’t think we got around to having the chat that, “Words are hurtful too.”
It has been more than 20 years since the Big Rock hikes with my family. I did continued the hikes with a dear friend for a while, after the kids got busy doing sports and everything else growing kids do, but then my friend moved away.
As a (now past) middle aged woman, sliding into the end of a work career, having launched three children –now adults with lives of their own–I mourn my children’s childhoods. I mourn my lost friendship moments, I mourn the repetitive scenario that the Big Rock trail provided.
I don’t want to go back to that time. I don’t feel the need to try and repair the lost parenting moments that could have been better. But I do mourn and marvel at the way time has of playing its hand.
When our family hiked the Big Rock together, the days were long and time creeped. Now the years are muddled and filled with “Where did the time go?”
Time now, seems to slip by at an incredibly fast rate. An event will occur and I will remember it as a year or two ago. When in reality it has been more like five or six years. OOFF! I hope my brain can keep up!
If this world is going to be a better place for our grandchildren and great-grandchildren, it will be women who make it so.
Isabel Allende
My husband and I now have two grandchildren. Two adorable girls who live far away. We are blessed to be able to see them a few times a year. We Skype often so they know who we are. I imagine the day when they come to visit and we take them to The Big Rock Trail.
“Lu Lu tell me again what Daddy used to do,” the elder child might say, while her younger sister might drag a stick on the ground behind her.
I’ll say, “Your father used to goad your uncle on–he and your auntie always left their little brother behind. I am SURE you would never do such a thing to your sister, RIGHT?”
Maybe I can make up for those lost parenting moments with the grandkids––Maybe?!
Wow – thanks Lucy! I could relate to -everything! in your story, including Morton Arboretum., perceptions of time, guilt/ regret about how i raised my kids, exhaustion… adult kids living at a distance…yikes! Great to know i’m not so alone.