conveniently troublesome
March 13, 2017 § 9 Comments
Our daughter’s school trip utilized social media for the purpose of sharing photographs with parents and permitted cell phones for communication, time (in place of a watch), and camera use. When they first outlined these details in the family pre-travel meeting, my daughter was uninterested in bringing a phone. My husband and I suggested she use her phone for photographs but resist the temptation to check in with us. To disconnect from her phone and connect with her environment.
In the same meeting we listened to humorous anecdotes of previous trips, parents calling the chaperones to ask questions based on social media snapshots of the trip. My husband and I laughed along with the collective amusement of the other parents at the obvious interference of helicopter parents and pledged not to disrupt our daughter’s exercise in independence.
Then, our daughter left home and early online images of her trip challenged our conviction. Looking at the social media snapshots of our daughter’s first day, I wondered such insignificant worries. Why are some chaperones so much more thoughtful in their documentation, while our’s appears lacking. Other times I would catch the corner of my daughter’s image and wonder if she were warm enough, tended to.
The pictures were inconsequential to my daughter’s experience and their value disproportionate to my doubts.
It is a strange disparity in pictures. The stories we tell ourselves and the meaning we infer. This age of hyper-connectivity invites unwelcome comparison and worry. These conveniences meant to lend comfort, invite opportunities for troublesome interference and undermine the illusion of independence our children need for maturity.
Modern conveniences let us meddle in a way that sabotages mindfulness with a distortion of truth. At the end of the second day it took every ounce of willpower not to pepper my daughter with reminders, to use the information I had been given to assume and infer, interrupt and instruct.
Today I’m celebrating the invitation to succeed with an imperfect practice of patience. Setting aside the stories I’ve created for my daughter’s photographs, to better fill in the space of her absence with the stories she tells face to face. Honoring the spirit of our first instructions with actions, disconnecting online to reconnect in realtime.
to my daughter
March 12, 2017 § 2 Comments
Saying goodbye, as you prepared for your first trip without us, was almost too easy. The effervescent enthusiasm of your anticipation was contagious. You were eager to leave; waking hours too soon, ready to take flight.
It was barely after one in the middle of the night when you woke me, draped in a blanket and wide awake. Worried you had overslept and ready to begin an adventure, you were restless. You curled up beside me, completely unable to sleep, perpetually checking the time and losing the struggle to silence with fragmented bursts of disconnected chatter.
When at last I conceded the hopelessness of sleep, you raced efficiently through your morning routine. It was, perhaps, the first time all year you were untempted to play when there were tasks undone.
At school, as the groups of families gathered for goodbyes, you bounced between friends and raced through impatient hugs. I tenderly and with great amusement remembered the little girl who clung so tightly to my legs each morning of kindergarten drop-off. Gone was the hesitation that informed an uncertainty, in its place a fierce independence.
It is as it should be and so your father and I were pleased when you messaged us late your first afternoon away that you missed us, but only a little.
Soon we will sift through photos of your school trip, a visit to a place we once traveled as a family. I’ve been peeking at old images in your absence, lost in the space of so many changes. The shape of your smile as you’ve grown further into yourself and the lingering traces of an essential self that sparks humor with a twinkle in your eye.
I wish for only a moment, to be your companion on this trip; to share your awe and gather your wit. Instead I am contentedly eager to be the recipient of your stories. To save you a place of homecoming.
Love, Mom
wonder in waiting
June 26, 2014 § 2 Comments
So much life occurs in empty moments of waiting. We fill the time between beginnings with choices that provide distractions and illuminate self. I watched my children navigating the airport yesterday and marveled at the differences between each child and the memories trapped in the congested busyness of familiar spaces.
My son turned inward from the noise and movement of our surroundings. He cocooned into stillness, preserving his solitude. His sister moved into his shadow, challenging his stagnancy. Nose and forehead pressed against the glass she watched the progress of the workers on the ground. Her stillness seemed to radiate movement, waves of curiosity and attentiveness merging with the current of strangers that milled around.
At first I worried that my son had hardened against the experience of traveling. My memory of his toddler form peeking on tiptoe through the same glass, enthusiastic tones of awe for the caravan of luggage that would caterpillar between metal birds was in sharp contrast to the curve of his torso as he bent into his reading. There was silence where once he created introductions and discovered friendship in the face of other children, sorting his surroundings and filling the empty chairs around him with questions.
It wasn’t until we settled ourselves into seats aboard our plane that I realized my son had not lost his eagerness to peer through the window or chase friendships; he merely gave up a place near the window to sit on the perimeter of old experiences. He still engages his neighbor across the aisle and creates his own distractions, but he has matured into an experience of expected restraint. It isn’t that his sister’s enthusiasm exaggerates his acquiescence, but rather mirrors the gift of his experience.
My daughter learned to look through the window by looking first to her brother. The evolution of each child’s experiences making me more conscious of how I assign placement within expectations and the importance of creating windows.
have children, will travel
June 14, 2012 § 2 Comments
In my earliest days as a mother I traveled lightly. I left toys and accessories behind embracing unforeseen distractions within new environments. I didn’t dwell on the decision, I made it casually.
As I prepared to visit my mother this past week I realized I had begun packing with the expectation that my children needed familiar comforts; I prepared for boredom and anticipated a need for entertainment. I am not certain when my packing patterns shifted, but conscious of this I committed myself to embracing the challenge of unpacking my assumptions. I began by removing gadgets from their travel bags, giving my children room to explore their environment in search of distractions.
Our first hurdle occurred early in the trip. At the airport gate a chorus of impatient How much longer? was interrupted by a curious toddler tugging at my children’s hands. Soon my children were peering at their surroundings from another perspective, all three children looking out the airport windows marveling at the planes and machinery, brightly colored luggage, and uniformed workers. The minutes passed in spontaneous play with a new friend; the waiting less weighted.
That same day settling in to my parent’s home I let go of needing to keep my children occupied and watched them drift to different corners of the house finding their own distractions. At twelve and seven years old they moved independently in the space safely and curiously, each child reintroducing themselves to old favorites while discovering new interests.
Our vacation days were simple, uncluttered by agendas. Rather than drive to distractions in search of something interesting we divided our days between the backyard and living room. Pool time and board games, books and blank drawing tablets captured my children’s imaginations.
Watching my children work through frustrations and seek out companionship or entertainment without my direction assured me we could vacation with less and gain more. We left behind expectations and uncovered a stronger awareness of ourselves, our surroundings, and each other.
scribblechic 