Heartbreak, Decision Making, and blowtorches
There have been times in the past seven years of being a mother when I look back and say, "Yep, I knew I was a mother when..." I insert different things like, when I held out my hand to catch my daughter's barf one time when she was suddenly sick, when I wiped her nose with my fingers and then wiped it on my pants. When I stayed up all night, wide awake as if in a caffeine induced jolt while she battled a 105 degree temperature. When I cried when she went to preschool, and kindergarten, and first grade. Just all those things where you KNOW you're a mom.
I've said, too, that I would rather someone punch my daughter in the face than hurt her feelings. Although I would prefer neither is done. I can remember one time when she got left out of a birthday party and cried most of the day from the sheer disappointment of it. I wanted to run across the street to the culprit's house and at least kill them. I don't think I've ever been so angry in my life. They hurt my daughter. Hurt her in a way that she will probably never forget. Not that it was a devastating blow, mind you, but even now she'll sometimes bring it up. More as a "remember when" type thing, but it shows that it's obviously still in her mind.
Many times I've held my tongue as she fought her own battles. How else would she learn? It's one of the most painful things a parent has to do. Sometimes I'd really like to speak for her, think for her, act for her, do for her, but I know that she'd end up being such a wimp in real life that it would be pathetic. I had to fight my own battles, and I'm glad I did. It made me who I am today. (Good thing?) Have you ever met anyone who can't make a simple decision to save their lives? They're annoying! And useless.
Anyway, one of those moments came to me again today. I was driving home and was about a 1/2 block from my house when I saw my daughter on the sidewalk, just standing there. There is a house at the end of the street that has two new kids to play with. Two new boys. As I drove by the house and saw my kid, I saw that a bunch of the neighborhood kids were over at the new kids house, playing in their driveway. I mean, lots of kids. My daughter was about 20 steps away, just watching them play. I saw the uncertainty in her eyes and...well, I started tearing up. Kind of like I'm doing just typing it. I know it sounds so petty. "Okay, your daughter was standing on the sidewalk. Ooooooo. How depressing." But, it's not just that. It was that hesitation of "will they let me play? Will they like me? Will I like them?" I saw that hesitation and that uncertainty and I wanted to just hammer slam the brakes, skid sideways, jump out of my mobile and say, 'PLAY with her!" But, I didn't. I drove really slow (she hadn't seen me yet) and saw her make the decision to approach the mob. She did so with gusto, and for that I was so glad. When she did see me, she threw a casual wave over her shoulder while screeching with the girls from across the street.
See, I remember being the hesitant kid. I remember approaching new people hoping nobody would ask me why I lived with my grandparents, and where was my mom and dad, and why were we poor and why was I raised in such a strict house. I was the chubby kid in garage sale clothing who was very self conscious.
When you see your kids at their most vulnerable, it's downright sad. You wonder what's going through their head, although if you asked them, they would probably say, "Nothing." Great answer! But you can see it in their eyes. And, maybe you've been there yourself. Hesitating on the edge of the crowd. Uncertainty creeping in..."if I just walk away and go back home, will they notice?" I hesitate to think of the future battles, if things like this get to me.
Sometimes my daughter will be just sitting there and I so want to know what she's thinking. Is she sad? Happy? Angry? What's she thinking about? A person? School? How she thinks the neighbor boy is cute? They're creating their own world, relying on us to guide us in the world space we occupy, but nevertheless creating their own. One I eventually won't be as big as a part of.
I can only hope that I'm guiding her correctly. I try to teach her all the right things, but who of us hasn't thought they've failed at some point? I think stepping back and letting her live life is the best thing to do for her. (Within reason, of course. No playing with blow torches.) I teach her compassion, caring, independence, resolve, love, fairness, and courtesy. Am I missing anything? Of course. I think we all do. But, we all slog through the best we can. We can only hope it's good enough.
I've said, too, that I would rather someone punch my daughter in the face than hurt her feelings. Although I would prefer neither is done. I can remember one time when she got left out of a birthday party and cried most of the day from the sheer disappointment of it. I wanted to run across the street to the culprit's house and at least kill them. I don't think I've ever been so angry in my life. They hurt my daughter. Hurt her in a way that she will probably never forget. Not that it was a devastating blow, mind you, but even now she'll sometimes bring it up. More as a "remember when" type thing, but it shows that it's obviously still in her mind.
Many times I've held my tongue as she fought her own battles. How else would she learn? It's one of the most painful things a parent has to do. Sometimes I'd really like to speak for her, think for her, act for her, do for her, but I know that she'd end up being such a wimp in real life that it would be pathetic. I had to fight my own battles, and I'm glad I did. It made me who I am today. (Good thing?) Have you ever met anyone who can't make a simple decision to save their lives? They're annoying! And useless.
Anyway, one of those moments came to me again today. I was driving home and was about a 1/2 block from my house when I saw my daughter on the sidewalk, just standing there. There is a house at the end of the street that has two new kids to play with. Two new boys. As I drove by the house and saw my kid, I saw that a bunch of the neighborhood kids were over at the new kids house, playing in their driveway. I mean, lots of kids. My daughter was about 20 steps away, just watching them play. I saw the uncertainty in her eyes and...well, I started tearing up. Kind of like I'm doing just typing it. I know it sounds so petty. "Okay, your daughter was standing on the sidewalk. Ooooooo. How depressing." But, it's not just that. It was that hesitation of "will they let me play? Will they like me? Will I like them?" I saw that hesitation and that uncertainty and I wanted to just hammer slam the brakes, skid sideways, jump out of my mobile and say, 'PLAY with her!" But, I didn't. I drove really slow (she hadn't seen me yet) and saw her make the decision to approach the mob. She did so with gusto, and for that I was so glad. When she did see me, she threw a casual wave over her shoulder while screeching with the girls from across the street.
See, I remember being the hesitant kid. I remember approaching new people hoping nobody would ask me why I lived with my grandparents, and where was my mom and dad, and why were we poor and why was I raised in such a strict house. I was the chubby kid in garage sale clothing who was very self conscious.
When you see your kids at their most vulnerable, it's downright sad. You wonder what's going through their head, although if you asked them, they would probably say, "Nothing." Great answer! But you can see it in their eyes. And, maybe you've been there yourself. Hesitating on the edge of the crowd. Uncertainty creeping in..."if I just walk away and go back home, will they notice?" I hesitate to think of the future battles, if things like this get to me.
Sometimes my daughter will be just sitting there and I so want to know what she's thinking. Is she sad? Happy? Angry? What's she thinking about? A person? School? How she thinks the neighbor boy is cute? They're creating their own world, relying on us to guide us in the world space we occupy, but nevertheless creating their own. One I eventually won't be as big as a part of.
I can only hope that I'm guiding her correctly. I try to teach her all the right things, but who of us hasn't thought they've failed at some point? I think stepping back and letting her live life is the best thing to do for her. (Within reason, of course. No playing with blow torches.) I teach her compassion, caring, independence, resolve, love, fairness, and courtesy. Am I missing anything? Of course. I think we all do. But, we all slog through the best we can. We can only hope it's good enough.
posted by Nebraska Angie @ 10:00 PM
1 Comments:
At September 8, 2005 at 8:48 PM,
Peggy said…
Dang... I just stumbled across your blog. I wasn't expecting to cry (over the story of your Dad & the Fair)or the anticipation (would your child make new friends?) or the frustration (over your job). Thank you for touching my heart.
As far as the job is concerned, it DOES get better. I was in that exact situation five years ago (15 years at the job, micromanaging idiot as boss). I left -- it wasn't easy -- but I'm in a much better place now. (and the now ex-boss was fired about a year after I left.) Good luck to you; you deserve it.
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