This post originally appeared in Kveller.
Our family has arrived at a delicate, finite, oasis-type period which lies quietly in wait between the physical nightmare of small children and the emotional nightmare of teenaged children.
Nobody is in diapers, nobody needs a nap, nobody demands peeled hot dogs or melts down into a puddle on the floor if we don’t find the pacifier with the blue stripe. Right. This. Second.
We sleep through the night, almost always.
No one is texting incessantly, no one is “pulling an attitude” as my mother used to say when referring to the rolled eyeballs she desperately wanted to slap out of my head, and no one is changing outfits 14 times before school.
We have not yet been accused of embarrassing our children, instructed to stay in the car while chauffeuring them to activities, or blamed for “ruining my life!”
Our children, ages 9, 6, and 4, are not only reasonably independent, but also still interested in spending time with us. I love this stage. And this calm-ish sanctuary is going to last about four seconds, so I want to make the most of it.
Read the rest of this post on Kveller.