thumbs up
May 19, 2013 § 8 Comments
In the earliest stages of our daughter’s presence, when the idea of a second child was bundled with eager expectations for the mystery of a life newly formed, my husband and I promised to steal moments from our routines to be present with each child, individually. Careful not to disrupt the experience of parenting our son and mindfully pledging to share our time equally with someone new. Over the years we have found creative ways to borrow time alone with our children. Some days we invite them into an activity, other days we insist on their company.
This weekend my husband and daughter embarked on a camping trip with friends, leaving my son and I to rattle around the quiet. No longer easily distracted by my activities, my son is now old enough to hold expectations for more independent interests. Rather than forcibly shuffle him out the door under the pretense of preformed plans I decided to stagger through uncertainty setting my hopes for little more than time away from distractions. As a newly official teenager with an ever-present appetite, I decided to appeal to my son’s taste buds.
We began at a restaurant of his choosing. Less than a bribe and more than a concession, I wanted to meet him in a place of happy anticipation. Watching him inhale his favorite milkshake while we waited on our food I was smitten with the man-child who balanced awkwardly in his seat while draining his beverage with the sloppy, unbridled enthusiasm reminiscent of a toddler who once stuffed his order of french toast into his cheeks too eager to chew. Between bites of burger I realized I was watching my son eat pickles, onions, lettuce, and tomato without second guessing the ingredients between meat and bun. As a toddler he ate everything, but over the years stubborn expressions of self have created food boundaries that were as predictable as inexplicable. It’s funny how in motherhood something as simple as a shift in food can stir memories. I’m quite certain my son wasn’t remembering french toast as he contentedly consumed his meal, unaware I was traveling through time between bites.
Preparing to leave the restaurant I was still smiling at his loopy gait, the way he throws himself forward unaware of his surroundings, when he abruptly changed gears and pushed himself eagerly into the entryway door, holding it open for a parade of strangers. A young family entered the restaurant, the father manipulating a bulky stroller into the foyer. As an older couple made their way past my son the young father looked at me silently mouthing the word “yours” while pointing a questioning hand toward the door. As I nodded he flipped his hand into a subtle thumbs up.
This one small sign was the equivalent of silent applause for what no stranger could have realized was a special recognition. My son doesn’t always notice the people around him. His words and mannerisms can create moments of frustration among adults and peers who do not understand this child, who by all outward appearances is unexceptional, struggles to translate the world around him. The effort it takes for my son to step out of himself and juggle the multiple signals around him is exhausting at best. Only I knew that he had gone from studying the pattern of the floor, leaping from planks of wood to avoid the cracks, determined to reach a shelving structure littered with playful distractions for waiting guests his borrowed book in tow – to recognizing a need on the other side of the door. Breaking from his own momentum was more than etiquette, it was an exercise in effort that extended beyond what I could communicate in hand signals.
My husband and daughter will return today with stories of time with friends outdoors. They will settle dirty gear and smoke laced laundry as evidence of their campfire adventures to tidy for another day, but I am holding a special place in our sharing for my son’s intangible memento of our time together. A symbolic acknowledgment that he’s listening and trying, even when we are too distracted by our daily routines to see our son’s progress. Sometimes we have to spend a moment away from our expectations to allow ourselves to see something new, all the while remembering the old.
scribblechic 
That was lovely-a definite thumbs-up.
Thanks!
For many years I have resisted having my youngest son ride the bus to school because I treasure the quiet time we have together every morning. With two already grown, I know how fleeting my time with him is, and I’m not yet ready to give up those precious moments.
Great post, mama.
I often marvel at the miracle of those tiny minutes in the most mundane of places. The older my children get, the more conscious I am of each opportunity.
Thank you for the compliment and your voice in this space.
You are so blessed to be able to live so completely in each moment. A beautiful bit of time spent together.
On a related note, it’s a good thing you don’t live where I do. The weekend was rotten! Had your husband and daughter gone camping near Gander NL, Canada (a 3 hour drive from my home) they would have had to cope with almost 60 cm of snow :>) Weird–temps back to 15 C (60 F) tomorrow…
Thank you, it was a wonderful weekend!
Snow has become a bit of a dirty word around here. We were very gratefully graced with blue skies and sunshine.
” … unaware I was traveling through time between bites.”
I can picture you gazing lovingly at your son while he chomps down on his burger and you taking it all in. The thumbs up seemed like a cherry on top of an already great sundae. Okay my metaphor here may be weak, but you seemed to have already recognized his growth and the thumbs up was an awesome external confirmation. Sounds like a great experience to treasure!
An exceptionally average moment, one of many everyday experiences wherein I catch my breath and absorb the tiny changes between sameness. The thumbs up was just a sweet surprise.
Thanks!