a question
March 16, 2011 § Leave a comment
In an empty classroom, with only a teacher and myself as witnesses, my son approached a classmate and inquired, “Why do you treat me differently when other people are around?” There was no anger in his tone, but confusion and hurt in his large, unblinking eyes. Looking at the boys I touched my son’s shoulder and stepped just outside the room giving him a moment to receive whatever answer the boy offered; my absence inviting honesty in a neutral space.
This is a familiar heartache; my son seeking acknowledgment among his peers. I recall a moment when he was younger; smiling and eager he raced toward his Kindergarten classmates, a tangle of arms dramatically high fiving. My son reached the boys, arm raised overhead, only to be greeted by their backs. Confused, he lifted one boy’s arm high demonstrating the greeting they saved for one another, but could not share with him. The boy’s arm fell heavily to his side and my son’s smile fell from his face. As his classmates poured into the school, my son remained rooted to the sidewalk, head down. I waited beside him, until he was ready to look up. It was my son’s first rejection, a moment of childhood unkindness that could no more be explained than it could be erased.
Years later, pausing at the threshold of another classroom, I held my breath and waited perched to protect. Seconds felt like an eternity and then my son, standing tall and serene emerged. As we walked to my car, I turned to my son and asked if he wanted to share the child’s answer with me. He shrugged slightly and told me the boy said he “didn’t know why”. There was no clear explanation, but there was something more: self-respect. My son in the sub-context of a sole question sought honesty and fairness.
I stepped to the side and my son stepped forward; each of us trusting he was strong enough to embrace a challenge and accept the outcome. I offered him faith and gave me a beautiful reason to believe. We cannot make everyone like us, but we can insist others treat us with respect.
release
March 15, 2011 § 3 Comments
As we sat down to dinner, my son’s body crumpled into itself. Placing a hand on his back I felt him lean into me like the toddler that used to seek my lap. At the sound of my words, “Are you okay?” his face fell as quickly as his tears; recognition offering permission to let go. He holds so much of himself tucked away, like the treasures he gathers in his pockets. Thoughts flow more freely than feelings and I wonder often at those things left unspoken.
My daughter releases her emotions in powerful purging; words and tears, wholeheartedly, she shoves her emotions in front of her. Sometimes the storm of emotion whirling around her exhausts us both as she fights through feelings; her strength often keeping help at bay. I stand nearby, arms outstretched, trying to draw her through; offering comfort and a willingness to share the burden.
I wonder when we first begin to lock up our needs and how long each of us waits to share the burden of anger, hurt, even joy. This is a lesson I too struggle with. Joy so often feels fragile that I nestle it cautiously in my heart, terrified to grasp it firmly, fearful it might slip through my fingers. This truth came to me when my son, years ago, asked what my real laugh sounded like. It was such a pure question, laden with innocence and curiosity. He was looking for the joy I hide.
I cannot undo my mistakes any more than I can teach what I am still learning. Instead I am trying very hard to find my way as a mother, learning beside my children as we each embrace and share challenges.
nonsense
March 12, 2011 § 1 Comment
Most days my world echos the hazy, transient space of a dream moments before consciousness. Like Alice, having fallen through the rabbit hole, my responsibilities tower precariously around me making me feel small and lost. I wander through my day absorbed in discovery and chasing after an ideal.
Housekeeping and meal planning, parent organizations and children’s activities are a never-ending tea party. I return to the table each day a guest of routine. I marvel at the limitlessness of motherhood, each moment of our days precariously tied to the promise of empowering confident, capable children through the riddle of simple tasks familiar across generations.
I squeeze myself into moments steeped in tradition, like unfamiliar games whose rules have been replaced with unwritten expectations. I stumble into awareness, reveling in discovery as new questions emerge.
Responsibility follows me like a grinning cat perched in amusement over my curious fumbling. I wonder if my mother and grandmothers felt lost or overwhelmed. I welcome each new mother I meet to this place of beautiful nonsense where almost everything means something, some things nothing, and others everything.
table talk
March 9, 2011 § Leave a comment
We are a family of four, messy and unpredictable in our fragmented mealtime exclamations. I look forward to the sharing between bites as I capture lost moments of my loved ones’ days. The exuberant exchanges are fueled by a simple tradition borrowed from another family. We play Hello.
Hello is toddler speak, translated it means High Low. My husband and I first introduced the exchange when our daughter was two, and the name Hello has become an endearment reminiscent of her early sharing, an emphatic “hello.” Gathered around the table and connected in a moment free of phones, television, friends, and obligations each family member takes a turn sharing a High and alternately Low moment from their day. Some days the effort passes quickly, on other occasions it offers a unique opportunity to be present in one anther’s lives.
We celebrate the Highs of accomplishment with the same energy we channel to nurture one anther through difficult Lows. Our moments are equals. There is no hierarchy by which we measure one another’s joy or sorrow. It is a moment of connection to one another, our days divided we gather and exchange hellos.
standoff
March 7, 2011 § Leave a comment
Big brown eyes gauge me and I am aware my boundaries are being measured against his will. Curious and tireless my son pushes against rules and expectations like a body pushing against the current, limbs heavy with resistance. I marvel at his focus and commitment to concepts held tightly in his mind. Determined to find his own truths and undeterred by others’ dismissal he stands firmly in a space of possibility.
still
March 1, 2011 § Leave a comment
Sitting together on a bench my daughter and I swung our legs as we quietly observed strangers passing by. Feeling guilty for snapping at her just moments before, I leaned over and said, “I hope you know I still love you even when I am angry with you.” She stopped swinging her legs and declared emphatically, “I still love you too, even when you are angry.” Such a small gesture hiding a larger gift. Our tiny exchange reinforcing invisible boundaries of unconditional love.
truths
February 24, 2011 § Leave a comment
I woke up today very conscious of two simple truths. First, other people’s opinions should not be the standard by which I judge my own accomplishments. More importantly, my children are not my accomplishments. There are a multitude of other truths, but these two were palpable in the early morning hours and I needed to create a space in which to better see them.
Even in adulthood I often pause and look to someone I trust to critique what I know. When their opinion validates my own, I feel a sense of accomplishment. On the occasion I find myself caught in disagreement, insecurity casts doubt. Right or wrong, so much of my own peace and joy rest outside my mind and heart.
My children bless me with countless moments of joy, intermittent with doubt. Am I doing my best? Could I have done something else, made a different decision? Are my children handicapped for my hindsight? I am learning that so many of their strengths and challenges are their own and my role as their mother is not to fix their world. Each accomplishment is their own, just as each challenge must be met with their determination not the momentum of my ability. I am trying to celebrate their stumbles as lessons and their success as part of their greater story. I am learning complexity offers a richness that builds confidence as much as character.
These words are my release; an effort to lay my early morning thoughts in an open space. Motherhood and friendship have given me a unique love that nurtures these moments of reflection. I am trying to own my challenges, find balance, and embrace joy.
less is more
February 16, 2011 § Leave a comment
I confess, I bought into glossy magazine images and clever advertising campaigns bearing false promises of happiness. Wish list items earmarked for special days, gifts for my children, were wrapped in anticipation of frantic hugs and declarations of love. A wish fulfilled gave an illusion of happiness. Suspended between perpetual anticipation and celebration, it took me a while to recognize disappointment beneath this exchange. The wish list items were quickly forgotten and momentary joy faded into new expectations.
When I stopped participating in this familiar pattern, my perspective became clearer and I saw my children more fully. My son finds joy using familiar tools in new ways. My daughter similarly seeks out creative expression with eclectic pieces of broken toys and art tools. Imagination is their greatest resource and their own standard of creativity priceless against the backdrop of mass-produced, commercial standards.
I must acknowledge there are pieces of technology, tools, and toys that spark new challenges and inspire unexplored story lines for imaginative play. These items I have begun to identify more clearly as items to anticipate, stretching out the wish to encompass the larger concept of earning; instant gratification replaced with an investment of effort that lends accomplishment to attainment. Sometimes it is better to want than to receive.
Wishing something bigger for my children than singular moments of temporary joy I am embracing the beauty of a dream. I am celebrating effort as empowering and nurturing independent definitions of happiness, my own joy unfolding as my children discover the lessons behind my efforts.
trolls
February 15, 2011 § Leave a comment
My daughter woke early this morning, fearful of mischievous trolls lurking in the dark corners of her room. The dream clouding her reality she snuggled into me and began challenging her fear with questions. I wrapped my arms around her sleepy form and listened to my husband meet her doubts with concrete answers.
I have trolls too; horrible, irrational fears. Why hadn’t I thought to stand in a place of love and support where I could safely question the reality of my trolls? Instead I throw the covers over my head and hold my fear bottled, its weight heavy inside my heart.
There is no great revelation or endearing anecdote, just the simple acknowledgment in the early morning hours that sometimes you need only a safe place to challenge your fears.
scribblechic 