Epiphany

Epiphany - "...was given currency as a critical term by James Joyce, who used it to designate an event in which the essential nature of something - a person, a situation, an object - was suddenly perceived. It is thus an intuitive grasp of reality achieved in a quick flash of recognition in which something, usually simple and commonplace, is seen in a new light, and as Joyce says, "its soul, its whatness leaps to us from the vestment of its appearance." This sudden insight is the epiphany." (Harmon 191).

It happened to me. Here's a dialog from a dinnertable, a commonplace thing, between two individuals, very commonplace in their beings:

"How was your day at school?"
"Bad."
"What happened?"
"_S_ and I had a fight."
"What did you and _S_ fight about?"
"Nothing."
"Well, what was it?"
"Nothing. I'm just mad."
"Did you do something to _S_?"
"No."
"Did _S_ do something to you?"
"Look, I'm just mad."
"Well, tell me what happened."
"Mom, just eat your dinner ok. We'll talk about this later."

Typical mother and child dialog, right? Except the child here is a three and a half year old boy who happens to be mine, and I am the nosey mom told to "eat your dinner" - childspeak for "mind your own business". So I was left, mouth opened in silent shock, over my black beans, rice, and cheesy enchilada.

Epiphany happened at 7:30 pm on August 18th, 2005 over a kitchen table filled with a homecooked meal in Fort Worth, Texas: My child is his own individual and he is growing up.

Chris was no help. He just hid behind his dinner napkin to hide his silent laughter. I would have laughed to - if Wilson had told Chris to eat his dinner. But it was me. It wasn't funny.

My parenting magazine this month addresses issues parents face with their children. I checked the 3-4 age range issues - sharing, naptime, picky eaters. Nothing about how to handle it when you've become a nosey mom. In fact, that wasn't even covered until the 10-12 age range, along with how to handle your child's first crush. I'm discontinuing my subscription. This magazine was not written with my son in mind.

Over time I did manage to get Wilson to open up (lime sherbert in case you ever run into this with your own 3 1/2 year old - and I won't charge you a fee to read that in a magazine). It appears someone made a hissing cat nose at someone else and from there it was just a bad day on the playground bridge. But I realized that the best days of parenting are what I'm having right now with Peanut - I know exactly where he/she is at all times. I know he/she is getting enough to eat. I know without a doubt that he/she is warm enough. I don't have to worry about bad people getting him/her. I don't have to worry that he/she may get his/her heartbroken today or tomorrow. Peanut is not getting mad or hurt about a hissing cat incident on the playground bridge. This is as easy as parenting ever gets, and I finally understand that this 2nd time around. The first go-round I just wanted to get the baby out in the real world where I could see him and, well, get my body back (which doesn't happen, just in case you're wondering). This time I'm not so eager to get to the delivery date.

They will tell you all the things you need to bring to the hospital to deliver and take home a baby. They will not tell you that suddenly the world becomes increasingly unsafe for that child in your eyes. And they do not tell you that one day you will have an epiphany that you have to begin to let go of your baby from the day of his/her birth. I can't control Wilson's environment, but I am finding some solice and peace in knowing that I have prayer, love to give him, and, of course, lime sherbert.

Harmon, William, and C. Hugh Holman. _A_Handbook_to_Literature_. New Jersey: Prentice Hall, 1996.