Tuesday, January 17, 2012

NEAR, FAR IN OUR MOTOR CAR

Listening to BBC yesterday, I learned Chris Evans, a Radio2 DJ recently bought Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and is having it restored to its original splendor.

Original splendor.

I would like to be restored to my original splendor…

But that’s not what came to mind immediately —(only just now, really).

No — what came to mind and to heart were all the memories and emotions that program evoked when I was six or seven watching Chitty Chitty Bang Bang on TV. Most likely I was laying on the floor, belly down with a bowl of buttery popcorn in front of me, just about a foot from the footed set.

The mere mention of the car yesterday brought about much the same emotion, only different. I love that movie and all the possibility of adventure it promises. 

More than anything, I lament the beautiful naivety of the age I was when I first saw that movie; an age I now watch my children surpass.

My youngest lost not one — but TWO teeth yesterday, and while she seemed excited by the not one — but TWO silver dollars under her pillow this morning, I noticed that telltale look of knowing shaded by her lashes in those big blue eyes.

Other things lately have me thinking about how easy (hard at the time) it was to be (feel like) a good mom if only I had them dressed properly, fed and happily playing on the floor — or stuffed into their carseats ready for an adventure of my own making.

I can’t seem to get them dressed properly any more. They choose, instead to go out into the cold without their nice coats. The coats are usually left dangling from their hooks, or from my outstretched arm. I want to yell and stamp my foot on the ground, and sometimes I do, but often to no effect. I know this. Every time.

I see my son channeling through his day more and more without seeking much input from me. I try to keep him stocked and sorted.  And I provide rides. He still needs rides.

In fact, last week we came to loggerheads over a respect issue, and the only thing I could really wield to any effect, I felt at the time, was to withdraw the ride. So I made him walk home. He was mad. I was worried. But he made it home and understood why I did it. We talked about it later.

I would like to restore the time when I could stuff my three beautiful people into the back seat of our very own Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and to offer them laughter and adventure; even with all the dangers out there; me at the wheel to protect them. We've had many of those.

But they are beginning to slide over and take the wheel for themselves; seeking their own sort of adventures. I know I need to let them. I'm not quite ready, though. I'm up for a few more of my own design, before I let them take the car on their own...

"Bang Bang, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang ... Our Fine Four Fendered Friend!"

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