Doing Family Time

This first week of school reminds me how insular families can be. When I was single in the mid-1990s and new to Washington, I remember when a mom barked at me to move away from a monument where I was trying to read the inscription. Her family, I was told, needed a photo, but the subtext was that the mere fact of being a family trumped any experience I could possibly have. Standing to the side of that monument waiting for the shutter to click, I promised myself that if I ever had a family of my own, I would be inclusive.

But it turns out that that insularity happens all on its own. Once your kids are in school--sooner if you actually try to keep your tots on a schedule--week nights find you and your family, at home, alone. There in the familial bosom, there are few dinners out, even fewer friends invited in, and nary a phone call answered or returned during the witching hours from 6:00 to 9:00 when baths must be given, books read, and bedtime enforced. Certainly when you're falling in love with your future mate no one tells you that raising kids, especially that forced march from food prep to night lights on, is the marital equivalent of driving through Kansas, where, as my father says, there's nothing to see but miles and miles of nothing but miles and miles. Anyone can be enraptured at the sight of the Grand Canyon. Now I know that the real trick is to enjoy the cornfields.