I was checking out at the friendliest grocery store in the area, where the employees often hold full conversations with customers. This time the cashier asked me, “What are you up to later today?”

“Just staying busy with the kids,” I replied, with a smile and slight chuckle.

“Oh cool. How many kids do you have?” she asked. After I told her the ages of the kids—9, 7 and 3—she quickly chimed in, “Oh those are great ages. So fun! The older ones can be a little more helpful.”

I smiled and nodded. I didn’t say anything because this was not the place to break down what “9, 7 and 3” looks like in our house, where our middle child has dup15q syndrome. It certainly wasn’t what she imagined. 

As the conversation continued, I thought about what I might tell her about our family dynamic, if I had more time.  It would sound something like this:

“In our home, we bounce between semi-calm and full chaos in an instant. Cruz (our 3-year-old) might start crying, which often leads to a sensory meltdown for Coral. She will then start frantically running around with no regard for her safety—tripping on toys in her path and possibly falling. My nervous system revs up and relaxes down with each repeat of the above scene. There could be countless episodes in a day.

“When I’m home alone with the kids every weekday morning, I pee with the bathroom door open.  This is not to watch Cruz, but rather to make sure Coral isn’t putting her safety at risk. I might come out of the bathroom to find Coral standing on the table, about to go head-to-blade with a fast spinning fan. Or she may be getting an up-close view of the bright fish tank light, grabbed from the top of the tank and held directly up to her eye, for the hundredth time. A small non-edible item could be in her mouth, or she may be doing a back bend (using only her flexed neck as a support, instead of her hands).

“I constantly think one step ahead, removing drink cups, cans, anything that could break or is potentially dangerous (like a kitchen knife I may be using to prepare a meal).   These are prime targets for grabbing, spilling or swiping off a table. We have double locks on all our gates.  Even with this protection, a mistakenly open gate can lead to Coral running straight into our busy street (unaware of the danger to herself), which happened recently. 

“Attending events—family, friend or community—is not a relaxed endeavor. It’s planning, packing (diapers, clothes, favorite toys, special food, medicines, adaptive stroller, AAC) and having a back-up plan. It’s knowing when we should “divide and conquer”—our term for splitting up to attend events that work for only certain family members—and when we should try to attend as a whole family. 

“And all of this doesn’t include the activities of daily living with which we continue to help Coral—dressing, eating, toileting and bathing.”

Of course, I didn’t tell her any of that. I gathered my groceries, thanked her and walked to my car.

Over the next few days, I thought about the conversation with the cashier. I believe the cashier was describing a parenting “sweet spot”—when kids reach the age where there is far-less physical parenting, but they are still curious and child-like in their joy. In other words, a time when the kids still want to do things as a family, but you don’t have to do as many things for them. 

After an initial heavy-hearted reaction to this illusive “sweet spot” in my own parenting journey, I realized there are still tangible “sweet spots” for our family. 

Our “sweet spot” is not a sustained “arrival” to the sought after freedom from the demands of physical parenting and a time of a bit more parenting independence. Rather, it arrives in moments sprinkled throughout the day—there to be appreciated, as long as I am open to seeing them. 

Our sweet spots are in the moments when Coral and Cruz jump together in the trampoline, for even three minutes, smiling and enjoying the time together. 

It’s the very few times when we all end up at the table together for a meal, sitting (or half sitting and half standing, in Coral’s case). 

One day after school, Coral dropped to the ground halfway from her class to the dismissal gate.  Tate arrived, picked her up and carried her the rest of the way.  Coral’s smile spread with each step Tate took towards the gate—a joyful sweet spot.

Sweetness is found in Coral’s snuggles, as she climbs on my lap and lays her head against my chest. She holds a favorite music toy in one hand, as she giggles softly.

It’s the time Coral went to a neighborhood party and jumped high and energetically on the trampoline.  When the family’s small dog came into the trampoline, Coral watched her, completely mesmerized.  She softened her jump when the dog came closer and even sat down next to the dog, attending and engaging with the dog to a degree we don’t often see.

On a different day I was about to leave for work, and Coral said, “I love you,” turning around in her chair to look at me. I quickly walked over to her, beaming. “I love you, too,” I said. Pure joy.

Before I could fully bask in the “I love you” moment, she chimed, “I’m joking.” I laughed so hard out loud. Coral’s hilariously joyful comedic timing.

It’s sitting with Coral in the large red chair in her room, as she presses a specific button on her music toy to play one of her favorite songs, immediately looking deeply into my eyes. I begin to hum the tune, as she does, emphasizing parts with a louder and more animated hum.  It is the love I see in her eyes when she knows I am choosing to join her in something that brings her immense joy. 

These sweet spots are not merely a result of “being positive” about the circumstances. They are present to me because I see the reality of this life and sit with it each day—the emotions, the challenges, the suffering, and the stressors present within every aspect of our family dynamic. 

I see the daily reality AND I see so much beauty in moments like these sweet spots. It does not have to be one or the other.  Instead, I choose to inhabit the space of this AND.

Sharing all of this with the cashier would have been long winded and probably more than she bargained for. But her comment gave me a chance to think about our sweet spots (and all the spice that goes along with them).