Loving Truths

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Art Lesson

June 9, 2010 in Daily Truths, Loving Truths by heather | No comments

Sobbing, four year old Daughter stared defiantly back at me.

 

“Yogurt,” she choked.

 

“No!” I said for the third time.

 

Exactly why I chose to dig in my heels over her third yogurt is one of the great Mommy Mysteries. Sometimes, we aren’t capable of choosing our battles. They choose us.

 

Daughter, however, inherited not only the color of my eyes and my odd penchant for launching into one of a few alternate characters at any moment, but also my own particular strain of stubbornness. She can dig in her heels with equal gusto. The result? At times I resort to childish behavior to break the cycle.

 

Hence, when she wouldn’t budge and hand over the yogurt, I grabbed it from her tightly clenched fingers and pulled it away.

 

(You can decide who was acting more like a four year old at this point.)

 

We both stared at the streaks of strawberry yogurt spilled across the hardwood floor.

 

“You may not have a third yogurt! It will give you a tummy ache,” I said again with as much conviction as I could muster to justify my actions.

 

She just stared at me and sobbed.

 

Then, without another word, she turned around and sat down at the kids’ art table and started drawing. I cleaned up the floor and went about my business preparing dinner. I heard lots of hardy scribbling from the corner but she didn’t make a peep.

 

After awhile she walked over to me and held out a piece of a paper.

 

“Here, Mommy, I made a picture of you.”

 

I looked at her questioningly.

 

“Am I angry in it?”

 

“No.”

 

She handed it to me and there I was, a stick figure with a triangle skirt and - a happy face. “MOM” was written at the top.

 

She reached out and gave me a hug.

 

“I’m sorry I was angry. Thank you for my picture,” I said into her hair. “I love you.”

 

“I love you, too.”

 

We were at peace again.

 

I put the drawing in the recipe stand on the kitchen counter and glanced at it over the next few days, thinking about her ability to draw through her feelings and process what had happened between us. And come out in a good place. It seemed that for all my mommy screw ups she had at least one healthy approach of resolving them.

 

And then one day I remembered all her ferocious scribbling in the corner that afternoon and I got to wondering…. So, I went over to the art table and picked through the sheets of old drawings. Sure enough, a few pages in I found the preliminary drawings. There I was, a stick figure with a triangle skirt. But instead of a happy smile, I had a circle for a mouth. Angry Mommy. She’d expressed me. And herself. And in the happy face that sat on my counter, found a way to move on.

 

 

 

 

 

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Yiddish in my Soul

October 31, 2009 in Big Truths, Loving Truths by heather | No comments

I met her when she was eighty-five. She was Jewish. I was a Wasp and quickly adopted Husband’s Grandma Sylvia as my own. Well, no adopting was necessary. Grandma Sylvia grandmothered me with no nonsense advice before and after the wedding and once the kids came. Grandma Sylvia always cut to the chase in a conversation and I found it refreshing.

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Secrets

October 21, 2009 in Ah Ha Truths, Loving Truths, Playtime Truths by heather | 1 comment

 

 

It’s been a rough couple weeks.

 

Son has started exhibiting the telltale signs of over stimulation, over tiredness, over commitment and over induction to Kindergarten. You know the drill - tears upon hearing the first of my many “No’s” for the day; angry looks and comments when I don’t jump-to-it at his first request; and a push, grab or punch to little Sister and to me when his pot boils over all too quickly these days.

 

Kindergarten “long days” started the week before last and he arrives home on the bus at 4 pm two days a week. All his robust energy and goodwill get used up in the myriad activities and social negotiations he manages in school all day. I get the leftovers. And they’re pretty slim pickins.

 

The weekends have been packed with soccer, birthday parties and play dates; leaving little time for rest and undirected play.  By this Sunday night, Son and I were both slightly bruised from the harsh words, threats, and push/pull we’d traded all weekend long.

 

The Competition

And then began the Competition. Son requested a “Competition” for Daughter and him after dinner. Uncertain what this meant, I concocted an event that was part scavenger hunt, obstacle course and performance piece.

 

Since Daughter had recently made two “beds” on the family room floor, my first task was for the kids to lie still with their eyes closed for ten seconds (borrowed from a similar standing exercise in karate class). Next, they had to bring me a plastic animal from the playroom (extra points for helping each other out), then do ten jumping jacks.

 

I, the judge, rated them on each activity and made it a tie. Bolstered by the lack of tears or fighting, I put more creativity into the second round. This time, the entire Competition revolved around cooperation – finishing first wasn’t the key to winning – teamwork was!

 

They started out lying down again and sang the Alphabet Song – in unison. Then, they had to get a spoon out of the kitchen drawer, go up to their rooms and put a shirt on over their outfits and bring me something, anything, from their rooms. And don’t forget the spoon, too!

 

We proceeded like this for a good half an hour and the activities escalated to a costume contest (I interviewed each character), to writing their names on paper, to bringing their two favorite books and telling me about each one.

 

For the final event, I asked them to dress up, make me something to eat (in the play kitchen) and tell me a secret. I didn’t say anything about what the secret should be. I just said, “Tell me a secret.”

 

Son was first and leaned in close to my ear. He held his hand up to cover his mouth and whispered strong and clear:

 

“I want you to save the world – and all my friends – and love me.”

 

It was, innocently and brazenly, his secret wish. A wish of hope and expectation and embodying all that he expects of me every minute of every day.

 

No biggie, really. He just wants me to be a superhero, his own private SuperMom. And this silent, precious wish is why my slightest off kilter day rocks his little being. Why an impatient glance from Mommy when he’s overspent from the rest of the world, brings anger, tears, and tantrums.

 

Then Daughter leaned in close. She hadn’t heard a word of Son’s secret but covered her mouth and spoke clearly as well:

 

“I want Daddy to love me and kiss me and I want love and you and….”

 

And I don’t remember the rest. I was so moved by the release of these secret wishes from their childish souls that I simply sat and let the beauty of their words blow through me - cascade through a mommy soul that was saturated with too many demands and yells and punishments and secret pleas for peace.

 

They both insisted, of course, to do the final event one more time. They changed costumes, brought me plastic tomatoes and toast, and once again, their secret desires.

 

Son put his arms around my neck and pulled my ear close to his lips.

 

“I want you to save the world – and all my friends. And I want to be your partner and help.”

 

 

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Acting Out

May 1, 2009 in Loving Truths, Uncategorized by heather | No comments

 

Lately, three year old Daughter has entered her rebellious streak, testing each one of my elementary parenting skills. It started a couple months ago, shortly after we began potty training. That was then a bust, even with my most passionate sales pitch. “Okay, honey, let’s go on the princess potty, then you can put a princess sticker on your pretty pink potty chart. If you go peepee all day, you’ll get a jelly bean after dinner!” Think I might have confused her with too many incentives? Regardless, it simply didn’t take.

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Building vs. Planting

January 3, 2009 in Loving Truths by heather | No comments

For Christmas, Youngest Brother gave me a sweet little book of Paulo Coelho’s quotations titled, Life. One of the excerpts jumped out at me as being very applicable to raising children:

In his or her life, each person can take one of two attitudes:
to build or to plant.
Builders may take years over their tasks,
but one day they will finish what they are doing.
Then they will stop, hemmed in by their own walls.
Life becomes meaningless once the building is finished.
Those who plant suffer the storms
and the seasons and barely rest.
Unlike a building, a garden never stops growing.
And by its constant demands
on the gardener’s attentions,
it makes of the gardener’s life a great adventure. — Brida
I realized upon reading this that there is a constant temptation to “build” my children into the beings I want them to be: well-mannered, well-behaved, smart, creative, independent (but no talking back!), silly (put your PJs on now!), curious (well, honey, that’s just the way it is) and yes, adventurous people.
But the truth is, their development is not in my control. No matter how often I think I can control their outcome, it is simply not up to me. It’s challenging to sit back and wait for a seed to sprout, to passively witness how it takes shape in its own way, in its own time.
My responsibility is to guide and teach my kids. But they will grow as they choose and are able. I’ll suffer the storms and barely rest. But the adventure all along the way is mine - and theirs - to experience.

Ladybug Lessons

October 24, 2007 in Loving Truths by heather | No comments

Yesterday, I opened the door to my back deck into an explosion of ladybugs. Yes, dozens, maybe hundreds, of lucky little black and red insects crawling over railings, siding, table and chairs. What really caught me by surprise was the fluttering of teeny tiny wings up into my face, around my hair and out over the yard. I waved my hands, brushing the pretty pests away, and prayed I wouldn’t insult their lucky charms.

Could this mean we’re in for a lucky spell? A really lucky spell? Like, if the entire backside of my house is covered with ladybugs, maybe we’re in for the lottery, a trip to the South of France, free preschool tuition next year…even a quiet night when the kids miraculously fall asleep early?

I ran through the fluttering wings to safety in the backyard, where my children played unaware of our ladybug intrusion. How many wishes could I manage to make on all these ladybugs? Would random wishes offered into the flurry of multiple wings count? Like when you release a ladybug from your finger, close your eyes, and silently pray for the cute guy to ask you on a date? Okay, that was way back then when I made carefree wishes on ladybugs who chanced to land near me.

Now, I’m a harried mother of two toddlers with the chance to wish upon a hundred ladybugs cavorting around my house. What will it be? How many wishes can I imagine?

Okay, real quick while the kids are playing on the swings, I wish:

  • That they’ll grow old together, laughing and leaning on each other as they do this afternoon.
  • That I’ll let them run around and play carefree, holding back from telling C. to pull up his pants and shouting at S. to BE CAREFUL!
  • That I’ll stop worrying whether they’re eating enough vegetables and bartering dinner for dessert as if it were a hostage negotiation crisis.
  • That I’ll relish the ONE MORE story C. begs me to read before bed instead of wishing I had more time of my own.

I suppose my children are a little like ladybugs. They’re beautiful and precious and they carry a magical aura of all things possible. And sometimes they can just be pests. I guess this afternoon’s fortune is that my little ladybug moment has taken me away from their peskier qualities and back to their beauty.

PS
I did a little research and it turns out, according to The Ladybug Lady, that ladybugs like to hibernate on the south side of light colored houses. Apparently the unusually warm weather has drawn them out in mid-afternoon. Looks like they’ll be with us until Spring.