“Life is a picnic on a precipice.” — W.H. Auden
It was a beautiful, sunny day in January with clear blue skies in Yokohama, Japan. Winters in Yokohama are typically bright, mild, and dry.
Our family had nothing planned, so we decided to take advantage of the gorgeous weather. It seemed like a marvelous idea to pack a picnic lunch, head out to the local park, and dine alfresco.
At the time, we were living as ex-pats in Yokohama — the second largest city in Japan. The park closest to our house was Harbor View Park — a lovely little retreat with a tranquil English rose garden and sweeping views over Yokohama Harbor.
I hastily prepared a simple but tasty lunch of cheese sandwiches, grapes, brownies, and potato chips along with ice-cold lemonade to quench our thirst.
Upon arriving at the park, we found a perfect spot under the shade of some tall trees. We spread out our blanket and settled down comfortably. We munched on the homemade sandwiches and treats while enjoying the peace, fresh air, and glorious views.
My daughter was around two years old at the time, and my son was six. The children looked adorable in their trendy little Japanese outfits with matching hats. An acquaintance had once remarked that my kids were always well-dressed, which caused me to beam with pride and love for them.
However, nearly as soon as my daughter satisfied her appetite, she stole a backward glance at us and proceeded to take off like a maniac. My son was instantly alarmed and proceeded to chase after her.
He quickly caught up and grabbed her by the back of her jacket. She fell to the ground and burst into sobs. One moment of peace in a park, and then chaos ensued. This is the pattern of parenthood, it seems.
The children looked adorable in their trendy little Japanese outfits with matching hats. An acquaintance had once remarked that my kids were always well-dressed, which caused me to beam with pride and love for them.
This immediately called to mind another incident several years earlier, when my son was about three years old. I was holding his hand, and we were strolling through a mall in Danbury, Connecticut.
Suddenly, out of the blue, he turned around, grinned, and began to run away from me as fast as his little legs could carry him, in the middle of a bustling shopping mall.
I instantly panicked and sped after him, grabbing him by the back of the hood on his winter coat. He fell on the floor and began screaming like a banshee. Thankfully, he was alright.
My kids are lunatics, I thought to myself sitting in that Yokohama park. It was just another day in the life. I sighed and packed up the remains of our picnic. Once my daughter’s sobbing had reduced to sniffles, I strapped her into her stroller. We all headed out for a final stroll around the park before returning home. I was determined to salvage what was left of the day.
Parenting is never easy, especially during those young, rambunctious years. And yet, looking back now, I can say with confidence that I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
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This post was previously published on Moms Don’t Have Time to Write.
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Photo credit: Unsplash