The environment we create

It is officially no-school season at the Cervantes house, and we kicked it off with a splash. Last weekend we surprised Jackson and Anessa and took them with us to a Kalahari resort where Miguel and I had been hired to perform and speak at a conference.

If you have never been to one of these resorts imagine if someone took a Six Flag’s water park, that traveling carnival that takes over the unused suburban parking lot every summer, and then added some Dave & Buster’s flair with Disney-esque prices aaand now you’re probably getting the idea. Oh, and it’s almost entirely indoors. Basically, both our children were in heaven, which is not easy to accomplish given they are seven years apart. I, on the other hand, was overstimulated to near oblivion which I think is a sign that I am getting old.

Friday night, Miguel performed for the conference attendees and their families, including Jackson, Anessa and me. Jackson had seen his dad’s one-man show before, but this was new for Anessa. I wish I could say that she was in awe of her father’s talent and enthralled with his performance, but three minutes in she was already asking for my phone. I was, however, able to convince her to dance with me during her father’s rendition of Dos Oruguitas from Encanto.

One arcade ticket fueled night later, we were back in the conference room the following morning for my talk on personal grief and how this group of financial advisors could best communicate with their clients who might be grieving. To my surprise, Anessa wanted to stick around for the beginning of my talk. Once I saw her creeping up the stage steps out of the corner of my eye, I realized it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the allure of being on a stage.

Shortly after, realizing she wasn’t going to be invited up with me, I watched as the back of her head bounded out of the room eager for another day of water slide adventures. I was relieved Miguel had convinced her to move along without any fuss, but I was also glad that she had been able to see me at work, outside of my office and off my computer.

Growing up I had a varied idea of what my parents did for a living. My mom’s jobs were more straight forward: she was a nurse, then she sold Mary Kay cosmetics while she stayed home with my brother and me, before going back to school to become a counselor. My dad went to an office for 8-9 hours a day and did office things. Sometimes he had business trips where I figured he did office things but somewhere else.

I’ve been thinking lately about how our parents’ careers shape our childhoods. A friend who recently visited told me about how he grew up in the circus. On the other end of the nomadic lifestyle are friends who had parents in the military. Others come from a long line of doctors or lawyers or there might be an expectation of taking over the family business. A teacher in the family meant you were basically local famous: good luck getting away with anything because your parent knows EVERYONE.

Which gets me thinking about how Miguel’s job and, to a lesser extent, my own, is shaping our children. Will they rebel against the artistic/unknown/unstable lifestyle and crave something secure and defined? Or will they follow in our footsteps, seeking out their own microphones? Will they want to stay close to home where they are known and know their way around? Or will they go searching for an adventure in anonymity?

Of course, so much of who we are is not only shaped by our childhoods but by the doors that are opened and the obstacles blocking our way throughout our adult lives as well. Still, I find it equally fascinating and bizarre to imagine Jackson or Anessa sitting down for a date, talking about their family dynamics and childhood memories. What will they share? Which parts are kept closer to their hearts? What memories will stand out?

I’m not trying to rush what is ahead of us. I know this time with our children in our home will be fleeting, but it is absolutely wild to watch them become individuals. I don’t dare imagine who they will grow into. Perhaps because I am keenly aware of how traditional or anticipated timelines are not guaranteed. All the same, I look forward to seeing which interests and inclinations become parts of their identities and which are relegated to their pasts. And, in the meantime, enjoying their ever evolving selves in this environment that we have created for them.

ID: Jackson and Miguel posing on top of a giant gorilla statue in a hotel lobby. They are both wearing dark clothes and smiling.