Originally published in The Greenwich Sentinel

Sitting in the office of the Head of the Lower School, Mrs. Yeskey, back when our boys were young, still carrying their small canvas bags packed with artwork, math sheets, and black and white composition books, I remember that feeling of dread. One of our sons had just been reprimanded for getting into a fight at school, and my husband and I were taking him home to spend the afternoon to think about his transgression, punching little Bobby during recess. This was not the first, nor would it be the last, of these types of discussions that we had with school administrators, covering a range of topics from tardiness, disruptiveness, missed homework deadlines, and broken and bent school rules.

Our boys didn’t get in trouble too much, but they all veered off course at some point in their schooling. It made my husband and I pause to seriously question whether we knew how to be good parents. Had we chosen Sunday morning sports over church too often? Should we have limited screen time more? Shared more family dinners? Assigned more chores, more reading time, more community service? Should we have been stricter, less lenient? Gone out less, stayed home more? Could we have done more? 

As parents, we spend a lot of time creating and distinguishing, like an artist attempting to perfect a piece of work. We step back to admire and reach out to make slight changes when warranted. We seek out imperfections and correct them. We help prepare our children for the day, the year, the game, the tryout, the audition, the admission. And in our childrearing frenzy, found somewhere between a lost lacrosse stick and a last-minute run to Staples for supplies needed for a project due yesterday, we worry, a lot, and we love, greatly. 

Now. How many times in the last few weeks have I said the word now? Now, I am exercising from home. Now, I am only going out to buy groceries. Do you want dinner, now? Well, now we have a full house, and at a time when uncertainty is looming and that feeling of dread can be ever-present, our adult children have returned home to shelter under our roof. I am aware that while others are alone right now or in harm’s way, caring for the sick or stocking and selling essentials, I am at home and safe, surrounded by family. And these very opposing realities make me feel selfish and strange, and yet I am thankful for this unexpected extended gift of time with all of our children, now.

In so many ways, my role as parent has shifted, and that is so clear from my seat at the dinner table. The questions that were once asked to help our children think deeper about their day (what was the best and worst part) and to answer not with one word - yes, no or fine - but in a full sentence are now answered without a prompt. The boys are filling the space around us with interesting stories and experiences, and I find myself absorbed in their world of work issues, marketing tactics, and investments, and in their conversations with each other. I am no longer teaching. I am learning, now.

Beyond the dinner table, my role has become one of an observer. I am getting a glimpse of the people those little children have become. The laid-back child who moved at a laid-back pace is now at his makeshift work desk at 8 a.m. most days. The child who was more inward-focused is now offering to help carry groceries and make dinner, without being asked. The child who was chronically late is, well, still late, even just getting from his bedroom to the living room, but he is passionate about his studies and is getting it done, on his time, not mine. The manners that we once insisted upon are existent. And they read! Did you hear that? They read. These small boys about whom we worried, a lot, have grown up, and they are kind and sensitive and funny, now.

Within the confines of our home is a wall lined with pictures of those little boys smiling back at us, mischievously, dressed in Halloween costumes in one, matching bathing suits in another. The other wall has their school pictures from the earliest days, their faces changing from chubby to chiseled with each passing year. And right by the pictures of the boys, our daughter is peering out, too, in a picture from kindergarten with her bangs she cut all by herself, and first grade, flaunting temporary tattoos up and down her arms. 

These moments in quarantine are the extra innings, unanticipated time that keeps us in our stadium seat just a little longer. Our boys will ultimately return to live under their own roofs, and our daughter, with us for now, will one day make a new home for herself as well. This time of crisis and turmoil will eventually be over too.

It took a pandemic for me to see that although we stumbled as parents, not always getting it “right,” our family has arrived at a good place. The canvas that we spent so much time creating and curtailing isn’t perfect, but it's pretty good. Looking back, instead of worrying so much about screen time we could have, despite the feeling of dread in Mrs.Yeskey’s office, relaxed and savored the mayhem of little boys more. And taken to heart, in good faith, the words that Mrs.Yeskey offered to us, relevant in 2005 and even more so today.

“It will be ok. Just you wait and see, everything will be fine, better than fine, even.”

Now.