Hillary Clinton had it right. Truly, it does take a village to raise a child. Our children are impacted by so many different adults, it's almost overwhelming. Gone are the days when Mom and Dad handled everything and were the only chaperones, taxi drivers, nurses, lullaby-singers, catch-players and influences in a child's life.
As summer begins and, rather than getting slower, our pace seems to be quickening, I have been more aware of my own children's "village." I counted 16 different places that one of the two of them "had" to be in the course of a week. I thought about the surprises that happened, the minor emergencies and the fun experiences and realized that I have much for which to be thankful.
So, cheers to our "Village:"
Thank you, friend, for adding another hot, sticky, sweaty boy to the Baseball Practice carpool, at late notice.
Never miss a local story.
Thank you, babysitter, for adeptly administering cough medicine and miraculously lulling a usually uncooperative boy into a much needed nap.
Thank you, nice lady at church, who sent a note home in our daughter's backpack, admiring her terrific work on the class puzzles.
Thank you, Grandma, for dropping whatever more peaceful thing you were doing, to report for dinner and bath duty so that all adult deadlines and meetings were successful.
Thank you, favorite neighbors, for including our little ones in your slightly-bigger-ones' backyard ballgame. Your kiddos are showing our kiddos how to be inclusive and kind.
Thank you, mailman, for ringing the doorbell to personally deliver a mailed birthday gift with great pomp and circumstance. For a newly-minted seven-year-old, it was a real treat.
Thank you, mom of a friend, for sending an email with the offer of a backyard swimming pool treat on a very hot afternoon. I didn't know you before, but I know now why my daughter likes yours so much.
Thank you, babysitter again, for showering our children with a calm demeanor and encouragement to keep trying. Sometimes, kids do better when they hear it from someone other than Mom or Dad.
Thank you, Grandpa, for always remembering the "Bee Song" at bedtime. Mom never gets it quite right.
Thank you, coach, for teaching both base-running and good sportmanship. They are equally difficult to explain.
Thank you, art camp teacher, for recognizing our sweet-girl's small stature and big personality and creating opportunities for her to experience success, rather than frustration.
And lastly, thank you, other moms, for sharing your own crazy schedule, crazy kid stories with me. Unknowingly, you reassure this mom that crazy is actually normal and that we all need eachother's help.