Thai Beef Salad
When people ask, or even when they don’t I often describe parenting as a roller coaster although I really hate how cliche that sounds. And yet, I can’t think of a better way to describe the highs and lows, dips and dives, elatement and nausea that happens in a single day when you are left to guide and shape the life of a little being or beings.
Let me give you a few examples from my day. Warning: four-year-old humor is involved. Proceed at your own risk.
In the car, where my patience is the most tried, my children sound like the shattering of a thousand plates of fine china. One is touching the other which is apparently worse than death, while the other one just dropped his lego into the deep crevices of the car and expects me to turn around and grab it while I’m driving. The cries from the back increase as I threaten to, “pull this car over”. Languishing both over the fact that I sound like a parent and that I have no idea what I would do if I really did pull the car over I decide to join them in their screams, “No more talking! Ever.”
Now I’m frustrated that I didn’t handle the situation as a mature and controlled parent would and that they didn’t listen to my pleading. While I’m lamenting my behavior I’m stunned by the sudden silence. I glance in the rear view mirror. With contorted necks and gaping mouths they are asleep and I swear I can see a ridge of light around their heads forming a brilliant halo. The last few moments of screams are instantly forgotten as my heart and every other part of me swells with love for these little people to the point where I feel as if I might just burst.
At home and well recovered from the car ride I settle on the couch with my four-year-old as we bond over classic Spiderman cartoons. As Spidey is flinging his webs from his fingers, Roman looks at me and says, “God made you beautiful.” I sit in stunned silence and just start to wipe a tear from my sleep-craved eyes when he finishes his sentence with, “I’m farting.”
At its peaks it is the best “job” in the world. I sit in stunned gratitude that I get the joy of parenting these three who I feel are the coolest people on the planet. And then there are the times when I wish it was an actual job so I could quit or at the very least, take a sick day.
Dinner time is another wild ride. Sometimes I spend the afternoon in the kitchen slowly simmering sauces and caramelizing onions to the point of uncommon sweetness. The herbs are picked from our garden and the bread slowly risen in the fridge overnight. I proudly display my dinner on the table, like my 2 year old and her scribbled drawings, only to be met with grimaces and the immediate separating of dinner into what can and what can’t be eaten categories.
Then there are the times when I bring dinner to the table ready for the assault of moans, grumbling and slouched disgusted bodies as the meal has all the signs of usual disapproval; lots of green, exotic seasonings and no pasta with cheese. So when I see clean plates and hear, “It’s delicious!” it’s enough to sustain me through some of the more common grimaces and groans. They happily devour the sweet and spicy grilled beef fleck with fresh mint and cilantro. Baron, after one bite of thinly sliced cucumber proclaims, “cucumber is my favorite.” I’m in shock as last week it was the worst. As I listen to all this I too clean my plate and marvel at the moment of a meal appreciated.
Until I can think of another visual that better illustrates the range of emotions I see and feel in one day, I think I’ll stick with a roller coaster. I’ve come to realize that while the dips are hard, emotional and trying to the point where I think I can’t handle anything else it’s then when a peak begins and I find again, the joy of the ride.

