Privileges

The work of parenting is not glamorous. In fact, at times it is gritty, monotonous and annoying. But I think the one overwhelming privilege that comes along with being there for the runny noses, the scraped knees, the pee on the carpet, the crayon marks on the walls, is that in the middle of all of the ordinary functions that young children experience every day are a handful of things they're doing or seeing for the first time. And these moments feel nothing short of extraordinary.

Late last week I took my tots on a ferry ride across San Diego Bay to the city. The ride lasted all of 15 minutes, but for C it was the first time he'd ever been on a boat, so it was spectacular. We sat on the open-air deck, squinting under mid-morning sun and pulling jackets up around our necks against the wind. As we set sail, C sat tranquilly beside me while L peered out over the water through binoculars in search of a gray whale boaters had recently seen in the harbor.

I leaned into C's ear and talked about seagulls, fishing boats and the two spectacular aircraft carriers we saw on our route. His eyes stayed fixed on the scenery and occasionally I saw him mouth words like "boat" and "eagle" but his voice was too soft to hear over the water rushing in our wake.

When we reached downtown, we disembarked and spent the next hour wandering along the shore. We examined waterfront sculptures made of welded metals, blown glass and plaster. We saw all types of boats tethered to their piers and talked about what types of passengers or cargo they carry. Then we searched for the perfect place for lunch.

L had been wanting to try clam chowder ever since we read "One Morning in Maine" and since we were already making a day out of "firsts" we stopped to eat. C nibbled fish and chips while casting silly grins at a baby eating with his family a few tables down. L slurped her clam chowder. She described it as creamy and sweet.

On the ferry ride home, C rambled continuously about the water and the boats, while L asked me about the purposes of life jackets and buoys.

Back safely on our island's shore, we lingered at the beach and I watched L and C get sandy and soaked at the water's edge. Then we headed home for napping.

I sometimes can't believe that I should be the person who gets to present these fresh experiences to my children and witness how they are changed by them. It is truly humbling to watch these little people smile or leap for joy when something impresses them and to be the hug of comfort or reassurance they need when they've had too much.

Not every day holds something new and spectacular, but the anticipation of those moments is sweet and reassuring through all of the monotony.

While C rested after our maritime adventure and L and I had just finished reading a huge stack of library books, another tiny "first" happened. If I hadn't been listening I would have missed this culmination of thousands of unglamorous parenting moments. After almost four years of N and I reading books to L, singing the alphabet together and talking about the sounds that letters make, I heard her from across the living room sounding out the word "girl" in a book she was looking at. I put down my magazine and crept beside her while I listened. When she was finished I felt tears fill me eyes and the kind of smile cross my face that makes your cheeks ache.

"Do you know what's amazing?" I said.

"What?" L said, already knowing why I was so proud of her.

"You're learning to read right before our very eyes."

"Oh," she said. And she smiled a huge smile, too.