Today, I read a beautiful blog post titled “Instead I Held You.” It really is a sweet and gentle reminder to stop and savor the sweet moments with our little ones. But, as a mother of an almost 5 year old and 6 1/2 year old, my little ones aren’t falling asleep in my arms too often any more, and I don’t need the reminder to stop cleaning as they fall asleep in my arms, because it happens so rarely I recognize it as a treasure.
But, as my kids have gotten older, and necessarily branch away from me so they can become their own independent and capable selves, I realize the sentiment holds, but it goes maybe like this…
Today, my patience had worn thin because I hadn’t had nearly as much alone time as I needed, or time to just rest, or read a book, or sit and not think for a minute. And in the middle of all that, you’d had a bad day too. So…
Today, when you walked in the door from school, dropped your backpack in the middle of the kitchen, and said, “I’m hungry. Where’s my snack?” I didn’t first tell you to put away your things and change your tone. I bent down, kissed you on the top of the head, and said I was glad to see you. You grunted, but you didn’t pull away from my kiss, and I noticed.
Today, when you were angry because I turned off the TV so you could help me set the table, I didn’t send you to your room on time out. I listened to your anger, and waited until you were calm enough to hear me say it’s important to work as a team. You were still mad, but you took the dishes and slowly set the table. I simply said thank you. I noticed you kept coming back to the kitchen to ‘not help’, even after you were done setting the table.
Today, when you slammed your door after shouting that you hated me, I took deep breaths, and continued making your dinner. When you came out a few minutes later, I stopped what I was doing, turned and faced you, kneeling down to your level, and looking into your eyes, simply said, “I know you don’t hate me, but when you use those words, it hurts my heart. I still love you.” I let you walk away without forcing an apology, because I knew you heard me. And when you walked in and kissed my stomach, because that’s how high you come now, and then quickly walked away, I knew you were sorry.
Today, when you kept speaking rudely to our guests and me, breaking family rules, and rolling your eyes at me, I didn’t take away your toys or TV time. I gently asked you to come into your room with me, then I sat on the floor and asked if you wanted to sit with me. Turns out that’s all you wanted. Just a few quiet minutes with me. We just sat there and took some deep breaths together. Sometimes company is hard on all of us.
Today, when your daddy and I were fighting, and you came in and started interrupting with an urgent need for string cheese right after dinner, I didn’t yell at you. I stopped, looked at your dad with knowing eyes, and asked if it bothered you when we fought. You said yes. Your dad put his arm around me and I leaned in, even though we were mad, so you could see we were ok. I told you that we still loved each other, and sometimes you fight. And sometimes, when you fight, if you do it with love, you actually love each other more at the end. We asked if you wanted to watch us work through what we were arguing about. You did. So we argued as maturely as we could, hoping to teach you that conflict happens, and we have a choice how we engage with it. Later, I heard you fight with your sister; you were kind even though you were angry.
Today, when you told me I looked fat, I didn’t tell you that it was a mean thing to say. I smiled, I told you I loved my body, and that I hoped you grew up to love yours, too. I told you that it doesn’t matter what size your body is as long as you are taking care of it – eating healthy, exercising, making safe choices, and doing things that bring you joy. I also told you that in many places in the world, fat is a compliment – so hold your ideas loosely, and ask questions like “huh, I wonder why we do that/think that” before you jump in with both feet.
