Before becoming a parent, I didn’t realize how much time is spent waiting for your kid. You wait for them after school. You wait for them after their activities. You wait for them after lessons or sports practice. Most of the time, because of distance and time, hanging around until the activity is over becomes the only practical solution. However, this often means an hour or more of idle, just waiting.
When kids are toddlers, as a parent, at activities, you relish your kid interacting with others, learning, sneakily waving at you, and shouting, “look at me!” Your phone camera is poised to capture each moment. The waiting seems less like waiting because you get to see these early learning activities, and you know you have to be present to help them participate or are there just in case of an accident or meltdown. I think parents go in prepared at this age, knowing their proximity is required–waiting is part of a shared experience.
Then, as my daughter got older, I realized that the adult in charge could manage her participation (and non-participation). She became less likely to have a meltdown or an accident, and I only needed to be relatively nearby. I could attend to other things like answering email on my phone or talking with other parents, or just not paying attention. Waiting then becomes being a parent on the periphery.
Now, I can drop off at many activities and am actively deterred from staying. “You don’t have to stay“ or “No parents are allowed, “ she says. I am free for an hour or so to do something else. Although I could probably insist on being present and sitting in the chairs in the corner, I honor her time to engage in her activity without my watching her. She gets to be the person having her own experience and tell me what triumph was had. Sometimes I have stayed or watched furtively through the window and thought about how much fun she seemed to be having. I think longingly about how much I’d like to play on the gymnastics bars or learn to dance instead of answering emails and attending meetings. And, then, sometimes, I relish the opportunity to get something to drink, take a walk, and be alone for a few minutes with my thoughts, not having to think about work or other responsibilities. Waiting becomes a gift of time alone.
There are times when I will take her to an event, like a family art day at the museum, thinking that it will be something that we will do together. With guidance from the adult leading the activity station, my daughter takes over and relegates me to wait to the side as she finishes her project. She doesn’t need my help. My role, as I wait, is to be consulted on color choice and to offer words of praise on the final product. I can hold sweatshirts and circulate back to check on progress, offering encouragement. But this is the kind of waiting that makes me proud. She is confident and confident that she can handle the activity and can trust that she can find me when needed.
There are other times that I don’t mind waiting. Sometimes at an activity or birthday party, other parents will do the same, and that is when the insights occur. We get to talk about our kids, events at school, activities, and resources in the community, and a wide range of gossip about happenings at school. There is a sense of camaraderie since our kids often go through the same things simultaneously. I also particularly like it when another parent comes over to tell me nice things about my daughter. These acts can only happen because of waiting.
Time waiting for kids is well-spent. Kids recognize your presence and reap the benefits of parental involvement. So, should you see me hanging out at an activity, give me a nod in solidarity.
Robert (Rob) S. Weisskirch, MSW, Ph.D., CFLE, is a Professor of Human Development at California State University, Monterey Bay, and a Certified Family Life Educator. He and his wife are parents to a chatty, elementary school-aged daughter and reside in Marina.
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