Recently, my husband and I took Z to the Dallas Arboretum to visit the stunning pumpkin village (which boasts over 65,000 pumpkins!) for my birthday. Throughout the day, I took little snippets of videos of him playing among the pumpkins and trying (unsuccessfully) to lift them and carry them. Later, while he slept, I used a fancy iPhone app to make a video montage of the day’s festivities. Then, I made a choice which has haunted me ever since: I showed him the video.
My son is obsessed with this video. If he sees me with my phone, he walks over and climbs up into my lap and signs “please.” His face lights up and he throws back his head and laughs every time the music starts and he sees the baby on the screen playing among the pumpkins. He’s gotten to the point where he knows when the video is almost over, and he looks at me and signs “More, please!” Usually, after the 9th or 10th viewing, I get to the point in which I’ve decided we’ve had enough and I say “okay, all done!” and he just wails.
Recently, he's been doing the same thing with two specific books that he just can't get enough of. The moment I'm done reading the last line, he closes the book and looks at me and signs "Please!" I think we read "The Jungle King" sixteen times yesterday afternoon alone.
Kids, man. Long after Mom or Dad has grown tired or bored from the activity, the kid is shouting or gesturing for “More, please!” I was laughing about this with my husband during one particularly epic meltdown (because what can you do other than laugh sometimes?), when I remembered a quote a friend had posted on his Facebook page (emphasis mine):
“Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, "Do it again"; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, "Do it again" to the sun; and every evening, "Do it again" to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.” - G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy
The entire quote speaks to me on a spiritual level, of course, but I have often found spiritual lessons in my daily interactions with my son. The absolute delight he finds in an activity or a moment does not diminish with repetition. On the contrary, he finds a new joy with each repetition! Remember when we were children, how we used to rewind our VHS tapes over and over to watch our favorite part of a movie? Goodness, when did we outgrow that? When did we start to lose our “abounding vitality” and our fierce, free spirit?
As adults, we all too often rush through our day and the many things that need to be accomplished. Even the moments that have the potential to stop us in our tracks only give us pause for a moment because there’s always a schedule to keep, a meeting to go to, a lesson to plan, a deadline to meet.
Recently, I was walking across the college campus where I work on my lunch hour. I had music playing in my headphones and it was a beautiful, breezy and sunny day. I was soaking up all the Vitamin D I could before going back to my cubicle. All in one beautiful moment, the music in my ears reached a soaring chord and the wind blew my hair back from my face. Without thinking, I threw back my head, spread my arms wide and laughed with the pure joy of the moment, without worry or care as to who saw me or how foolish I looked..
After that brief, joyful moment passed, my son’s face entered my mind. I thought of how each moment and each new thing that he has discovered and encountered in his 16 months of life has been filled with that kind of joy and wonder. Therefore why shouldn’t he want to experience it over and over and over again? I know it’s easier for him than it is for us, but perhaps I should take a lesson from my son and, in my opinion, from my Heavenly Father to actively seek delight in the monotony of everyday life.
I’m realistic; I know that it isn’t going to happen every day. But perhaps I can strive to get to a point where I find such joy in the minute differences in the monotony of the daily routine that I can look up, smile, and say “More, please!” I think it’s worth a try.
Showing posts with label Parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Parenting. Show all posts
November 17, 2014
October 1, 2014
::guest post:: Wearing My Confidence on my Back
Today, I am featured as a guest blogger at Mamas in Pajamas. Read the full post here.
Before I had Z, I had all these Big Plans. While pregnant, I wrote out med-free birth plans, bought books about breastfeeding, researched cloth diapering and co-sleeping and baby-led weaning and, on a whim, purchased a Baby K’Tan wrap while doing some baby shower gift exchanges in Babies-R-Us. Babywearing was just another aspect of the Attachment Parenting philosophy I just knew I’d subscribe to as a new mom, but it wasn’t at the top of the list.
Of all of those things, only one ended up working out for me and my little family, and it was the last one...
Before I had Z, I had all these Big Plans. While pregnant, I wrote out med-free birth plans, bought books about breastfeeding, researched cloth diapering and co-sleeping and baby-led weaning and, on a whim, purchased a Baby K’Tan wrap while doing some baby shower gift exchanges in Babies-R-Us. Babywearing was just another aspect of the Attachment Parenting philosophy I just knew I’d subscribe to as a new mom, but it wasn’t at the top of the list.
Of all of those things, only one ended up working out for me and my little family, and it was the last one...
September 9, 2014
My Child is a Person, Not an Inconvenience
Last night, I (very unwisely) commented on the Facebook status of a friend who posted something that basically said, "I'm really glad school is back in session so that I can run my errands in peace and quiet. I'm sure YOUR child would NEVER behave poorly but I'm glad to not have to be around those that do." The mama bear claws came out and I snarked back, "Well make sure you get them all done before the weekend, because we have to run our errands some time, and we'd hate for our brats to ruin your Saturday!"
In retrospect, I should have kept my mouth shut. I've never been known to be someone who thinks before she types/speaks in every situation. I couldn't help but get defensive, though.
Listen, I get it. Kids aren't for everybody. Not everybody likes kids. Some parents only like their own kids. Sometimes kids can be jerks (I've called mine a punk before; I admit it), and some parents are negligent, choosing to scroll through their Instagram feed in the supermarket while their child empties a box of Lucky Charms onto the ground and stops all over the spilled cereal while singing some atrocity from a Bubble Guppies episode at top volume.
But I am so weary of my child-free/childless (which is PC these days?) friends complaining about children on social media sites. From the ever-popular "stuck on an airplane with a crying baby; great. #FML" to the more malicious and, in my opinion, unnecessary posts such as the one I saw last night.
I'll be the first one to like or comment on a post complaining about an incident such as the Lucky Charms one above. Get your face out of your phone and pay attention, ya know? But in most cases, I think we could all stand to show a little more compassion and understanding to two main truths:
1. A child is a person.
2. A parent is just trying to survive.
Your judgmental glares and rolled eyes and heavy sighs do nothing but exacerbate the problem and, more importantly, make the parents feel terrible and self-conscious. (Let me let you in on a little secret: we already feel self-conscious and think we're terrible!)
This past Saturday, I took my 14-month-old son with me to a brand new donut shop in town. I was carrying him in Fiona while I waited in a line that went out the door and almost to the street. The place was filled with families, hip-looking couples, and bleary-eyed college students grabbing a delicious box of snacks before heading to the morning football game. It was already a little noisy in there, but somehow (I mean I don't know from WHICH parent he gets this...::shifts in chair::) he managed to be louder than everyone. Not screaming. Not pitching a fit. Just saying "da DA! da DA! da! DA DA DA DA DAAAAAAAAAAAAA! da DA!" over and over again (and with great breath support and placement, if I may add) with a very serious and focused look in his eyes.
I tensed up automatically, bracing myself for the withering looks of other parents or rolled eyes of the way-cooler-than-me couple behind me, when the guy smiled at Z and started talking BACK to him. "No way!? Dude that's awesome. I KNOW RIGHT?" Z smiled and continued his chatter with a bit more gusto.
I caught the eye of the guy's lady-friend, and she smiled at me. I smiled back, my eyes saying a silent "thank you" to them both for understanding that he's just a kid, just figuring out his voice and his vocal abilities. Eventually he'll learn "inside voice," but for now he's just kind of exploring what he can do.
When a child is screaming on an airplane, I promise they aren't doing it to annoy you. How do you feel when you travel coach? I'll tell you how I feel: Uncomfortable. Tired. Grumpy. Hungry. My ears hurt during takeoff and landing. Guess what? That baby feels all those things, too. And the parents are feeling all of those things AND the panic and stress of flying with a small child.
When you're in the grocery store, thinking to yourself, "Those kids are crazy. They shouldn't have that many kids if they can't handle them," I promise you that the parents are doing the best they can to grab a few things for dinner or a school supply that one of them lost or forgot and probably mentally adding up everything they put into their basket, hoping they can afford it, while their tired, overstimulated and hungry children (who are not emotionally mature enough yet to just grit their teeth and bear it) slowly melt down.
Ask yourself -- how often have you, an adult, wanted to just sit in the middle of a grocery aisle and cry? How often have you wanted to throw your coffee cup on the ground in the middle of a meeting when you get upset? We don't because we're adults and we know that we have to act better, but at some point we, too, gave into those instincts as younger people.
Maybe you're reading this and shaking your head, thinking "teach them early!" But I want my child to be a child while he still can. I already feel my heart breaking when he bumps his head and I see him struggle with the decision on whether or not to cry. Even at 14 months old, some instinct is telling him not to show emotion and to just deal with it. Some day, he'll find himself in situations where he does need to tamp down his emotions until he's in an appropriate time and place to release them. But not now. Not yet.
Please be aware that I'm not just going to let my child throw tantrums and brush it off with an "Oh, isn't he precious?" smile. No. I'm going to be embarrassed and wondering what everyone is thinking about me and my parenting skills, and I'm going to mentally calculate whether or not he or I can both handle the extra 10 minutes it will take us to just FINISH the shopping trip or if it's best if I just leave the grocery cart on whichever aisle we're on and just get outta there.
But I am also not going to tell my child he should be seen and not heard. I want him to squeal with delight. I want him to sing the songs he learned that day at school. I want him to point and call out when he recognizes things. Your thoughts may not be heard, but your feelings are seen in every glare and every roll of your eyes and in every put-upon sigh.
I will do my best to comfort and discipline him when he inevitably melts down in public. But you know what would help me more than a judgmental look or whispered admonition? An offer to help me load my groceries into the trunk. A smile that says "It's okay, that's just babies being babies." Or, if kids really aren't your thing and you just don't get it and don't want to? Just put your headphones in and please stifle your sneering as best you can until I can get to my destination and out of your way.
I can promise that you and I BOTH are thinking about the glass of wine we'll pour as soon as we get home and get the chance to sit still. In the meantime, please give me (and my child) a little grace. I'm not asking you to love kids (or even like them) or have a few of your own. I just am asking for some grace.
In retrospect, I should have kept my mouth shut. I've never been known to be someone who thinks before she types/speaks in every situation. I couldn't help but get defensive, though.
Listen, I get it. Kids aren't for everybody. Not everybody likes kids. Some parents only like their own kids. Sometimes kids can be jerks (I've called mine a punk before; I admit it), and some parents are negligent, choosing to scroll through their Instagram feed in the supermarket while their child empties a box of Lucky Charms onto the ground and stops all over the spilled cereal while singing some atrocity from a Bubble Guppies episode at top volume.
But I am so weary of my child-free/childless (which is PC these days?) friends complaining about children on social media sites. From the ever-popular "stuck on an airplane with a crying baby; great. #FML" to the more malicious and, in my opinion, unnecessary posts such as the one I saw last night.
I'll be the first one to like or comment on a post complaining about an incident such as the Lucky Charms one above. Get your face out of your phone and pay attention, ya know? But in most cases, I think we could all stand to show a little more compassion and understanding to two main truths:
1. A child is a person.
2. A parent is just trying to survive.
Your judgmental glares and rolled eyes and heavy sighs do nothing but exacerbate the problem and, more importantly, make the parents feel terrible and self-conscious. (Let me let you in on a little secret: we already feel self-conscious and think we're terrible!)
This past Saturday, I took my 14-month-old son with me to a brand new donut shop in town. I was carrying him in Fiona while I waited in a line that went out the door and almost to the street. The place was filled with families, hip-looking couples, and bleary-eyed college students grabbing a delicious box of snacks before heading to the morning football game. It was already a little noisy in there, but somehow (I mean I don't know from WHICH parent he gets this...::shifts in chair::) he managed to be louder than everyone. Not screaming. Not pitching a fit. Just saying "da DA! da DA! da! DA DA DA DA DAAAAAAAAAAAAA! da DA!" over and over again (and with great breath support and placement, if I may add) with a very serious and focused look in his eyes.
I tensed up automatically, bracing myself for the withering looks of other parents or rolled eyes of the way-cooler-than-me couple behind me, when the guy smiled at Z and started talking BACK to him. "No way!? Dude that's awesome. I KNOW RIGHT?" Z smiled and continued his chatter with a bit more gusto.
I caught the eye of the guy's lady-friend, and she smiled at me. I smiled back, my eyes saying a silent "thank you" to them both for understanding that he's just a kid, just figuring out his voice and his vocal abilities. Eventually he'll learn "inside voice," but for now he's just kind of exploring what he can do.
When a child is screaming on an airplane, I promise they aren't doing it to annoy you. How do you feel when you travel coach? I'll tell you how I feel: Uncomfortable. Tired. Grumpy. Hungry. My ears hurt during takeoff and landing. Guess what? That baby feels all those things, too. And the parents are feeling all of those things AND the panic and stress of flying with a small child.
When you're in the grocery store, thinking to yourself, "Those kids are crazy. They shouldn't have that many kids if they can't handle them," I promise you that the parents are doing the best they can to grab a few things for dinner or a school supply that one of them lost or forgot and probably mentally adding up everything they put into their basket, hoping they can afford it, while their tired, overstimulated and hungry children (who are not emotionally mature enough yet to just grit their teeth and bear it) slowly melt down.
Ask yourself -- how often have you, an adult, wanted to just sit in the middle of a grocery aisle and cry? How often have you wanted to throw your coffee cup on the ground in the middle of a meeting when you get upset? We don't because we're adults and we know that we have to act better, but at some point we, too, gave into those instincts as younger people.
Maybe you're reading this and shaking your head, thinking "teach them early!" But I want my child to be a child while he still can. I already feel my heart breaking when he bumps his head and I see him struggle with the decision on whether or not to cry. Even at 14 months old, some instinct is telling him not to show emotion and to just deal with it. Some day, he'll find himself in situations where he does need to tamp down his emotions until he's in an appropriate time and place to release them. But not now. Not yet.
Please be aware that I'm not just going to let my child throw tantrums and brush it off with an "Oh, isn't he precious?" smile. No. I'm going to be embarrassed and wondering what everyone is thinking about me and my parenting skills, and I'm going to mentally calculate whether or not he or I can both handle the extra 10 minutes it will take us to just FINISH the shopping trip or if it's best if I just leave the grocery cart on whichever aisle we're on and just get outta there.
But I am also not going to tell my child he should be seen and not heard. I want him to squeal with delight. I want him to sing the songs he learned that day at school. I want him to point and call out when he recognizes things. Your thoughts may not be heard, but your feelings are seen in every glare and every roll of your eyes and in every put-upon sigh.
I will do my best to comfort and discipline him when he inevitably melts down in public. But you know what would help me more than a judgmental look or whispered admonition? An offer to help me load my groceries into the trunk. A smile that says "It's okay, that's just babies being babies." Or, if kids really aren't your thing and you just don't get it and don't want to? Just put your headphones in and please stifle your sneering as best you can until I can get to my destination and out of your way.
I can promise that you and I BOTH are thinking about the glass of wine we'll pour as soon as we get home and get the chance to sit still. In the meantime, please give me (and my child) a little grace. I'm not asking you to love kids (or even like them) or have a few of your own. I just am asking for some grace.
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