Ignoramus Rex

I'm not going to lie.

When I gave birth to Eric 25 years ago, I didn't know squat about how to be a parent.

The earliest example of my ignorance?  I had no idea that, if I chose cloth diapers, I should probably have a supply of plastic pants to back up that decision. 

After our second day home from the hospital (and the fourth load of laundry), our neighbors, the Buckners,  were kind enough to point out the obvious to us.

Their advice came straight from The Graduate:  

"One word:  Plastics!"

My God!  Their information was revelatory to our young family!  I should probably write them into our will. . . .

And that was just the first realization that I was ill-prepared for the job.

You know what, though?  Those dadgummed kids--Eric Carlson Holt and his punk sister, Allison Shepard Holt--thrived in spite of all our ignorance.  And that is something I find great comfort in.

For a thousand different reasons, it's good to remind myself that people are resilient, that good often bubbles up from bad, that people find a way to thrive, in spite of it all.

Certainly, my own lovely children are proof that we are not defined by our parents.  Or our leaders.

So, today, I focus on the loveliness that is Eric and Allison Holt .  I pinch myself as I consider those funny, steady, sparkly souls and the way that they hold so much hope for a good future, despite the sputtering, damp start that both faced so many years ago.

They are my finest homework, even if I kind of cheated to get the answers.