“Well, my seven-month-old was caught gnawing on a super glue tube today…how did your day fair?”
I responded to my sister with, “We retrieved several items out of the toilet, but we did manage to get the mouthwash and dog poop cleaned up without any permanent damage to either one of the girls.”
Since 1989, “Good night, sweet dreams, I love you, I will see you in the morning,” was our bedtime whisper. I remember one night, it was said through sleepy eyes.
Brittney and I shared a bedroom when we lived in the duplex apartment on Grant Street. Our room had heart-patterned curtains with a pink band cinching the middle of each three sections. We both had a twin bed; mine was pristinely made up and well-kept, while Brittney’s was made up only because it was required but not as neatly as mine (she’ll like that).
We used to wear “feety” pajamas, as we called them. When our neighbors were not home, or mom asked permission, they would let us slide down the stairs as fast as we could in our “feety” pajamas! It was the most fun a four- and five-year-old ever had!
On our bedroom walls hung a few shelves with trinkets and Cabbage Patch dolls that were not to be played with unless we asked (I still have those dolls. Same rule applies). A picture or two hung on the wall, but two spaces were reserved for the chalkboards we used to play school. In the corner sat a toy box full of fun things inside.
We both had matching praying Precious Moments night lights beside our beds. Dad had gotten them for us on a trip South without us. Brittney and I still have the night lights as well.
Both of us were tucked in tightly and dozing off when we heard the oddest sound from downstairs. Mom and Dad were hollering, “Pajama Ride!” what on earth did that mean? Both Brittney and I jumped out of bed and ran down the stairs. Immediately they proclaimed, “Come on, let’s go!” They loaded us up in the car, and we drove downtown to get ice cream. Oh, what fun it was! We were up past our bedtime and got ice cream; in our pajamas!
It would be false to believe my parents had a lot of money when I was little. They did not. They had enough to meet the family’s needs, but most of the fluff was left out. However, I never noticed. We were happy.
Grown up now with two little girls of my own, pajama rides are like magnets on my refrigerator. If I can offer my girls a small taste of what I had, I will have succeeded.
We have an old F-150 Ford pickup truck that belonged to my husband’s grandad. There is nothing spectacular about it. The air conditioning hasn’t worked in years- all the better to force the windows down. The seatbelts disappeared years ago, and the gas pedal needs several pumps before it finally fires up! This old truck has seen many truck rides around the countryside and even a Fourth of July parade. All we have to say is, “Truck Ride!” The boys (Samson and Maximus) are running laps and jumping in the air, waiting for the tailgate to descend. Penny and Lola (the gals) are not quite sure yet, but time will also teach them. A sweet treat is no surprise as we are cruising down the road with homemade air conditioning blowing in from the windows and dogs hanging off the sides.
Although dogs are not children, I make a vast difference between the two. We do enjoy and love them as a part of the family. Each year we pick a day to celebrate their birthdays as a group. I force party hats on all the dogs; they get a hotdog, ice cream sandwich, and a truck ride! Samson does not protest in the least to the party hat, but the other dogs try to remove it as fast as they can. For Eva and Charlotte, the festivities seem to deliver quite a memory.
I know parenting is full of correcting, tuning, and teaching, but we need to make sure we are spending time creating an atmosphere of fun as well, a time where you jump in the pool or have mud fights—a time where you create shapes in the clouds and have a fancy night out on the town.
Most mornings, I give my parents a call. If you don’t do this, I encourage you to start. The day is never too busy for a phone call to the most important people in your life. And if they don’t answer, keep calling until they do (smile).
I asked Dad how it felt to have his girls track him down daily just to say hello. He said, “There’s nothing like it.”
I told him my prayer for my girls is that they, too, will crave time with Chuck and me the way I desire time with them. He told me I could stop praying that prayer. I quickly asked why.
He continued, “Because of all the work you are doing now, all the extra time, care, and attention to detail will ensure a solid relationship when they are grown up. They won’t know any different but what you have demonstrated.”
The bills must be paid, homework finished, and babies put down for the night. Milk needs to be purchased and breakfast made, but that’s not what you’re going to remember (well, maybe foggily), but what you’re going to remember most are the pajama rides.
“I thank my God upon every remembrance of you.” Philippians 1:3
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