Rocks, Puddles.... Gratitude

I left work early yesterday so that I could have some of the first rain-free day in what feels like weeks with Xander. He wanted to go to the park. I just let him take us there... and be. I wanted to practice the New Being Prime Directives with him too, after a couple of days of a lot of movement in our home and family (my teaching late on Wednesday, a lovely visit from Jack and Jenn, Dad being out of town for a few nights, etc.).

We went to a lovely park nestled in a redwood grove on a creek just a block or so away from our home. Xander wanted to play with two dogs there - and was great about approaching them with his hand out turned down as a gentle greeting. He wanted me to throw the ball for the more hyper one. I did. He was knocked down at one point, but understood that it was an accident as I explained it and was soon back up on his feet and running again.

Then he wanted to play in the wet sand. We did. He wanted to climb the rocks. We did. Then he wanted to be on the play structure; we climbed and slid down the slide several times.

Eventually we ended up at the water fountain where Xander picked up a rock and ran it over to the HUGE puddle in the middle of the park. He threw it in and screamed with glee... "splash." He went back to get another... ran back to the puddle... splash! Squeal!! This went on and on... at least a dozen running trips back and forth... up and down three steps (no hands!) each time.

At one point I showed Xander that he has pockets. He could fill his pockets with rocks and take a few handfuls to the puddle and throw rocks and splash for several minutes without having to make another trip for more. Seeing a new being discover pockets is a gift...

Eventually, Xander realized that this body of water that had supplied us with so many spectacular splashes was the same kind of body of water that collects in our driveway on occasion... a puddle! ...and the kind of puddle that is SO FUN to run through! So... he looked at me, then the puddle, and then at me... and then the puddle... and then geared up and ran through it - drenching himself and his clothes with muddy water in pure New Being Bliss!

I did not impose my will on him. As much as I was inclined to keep him and his shoes and clothes clean and dry, I did not interrupt his creative flow. Several people - hikers, parents, grandparents, teachers and other neighbors walked through the park as it started to get dark and Xander continued to trample from one end of the puddle to the other, with more and more glee each time. Some looked on with a smile, appreciating the immaculate beauty of a toddler enjoying running through a muddy rain puddle. Some looked on with slight scorn... how could a mother let her son get so wet and dirty? Why isn't she controlling her child? I let it all wash over me, and continued to share in the joy with Xander.

At one point Xander came to me, watching happily on the sideline... tugged at my pants. "Mommy... mommy" pulling me towards the puddle. "Oh, you want me to go through the puddle too?" (Head nodding...) "Yes!" I looked down. Everything, including my shoes were washable. Why not? My amazing son is encouraging his mother... still in some ways wrapped up in the stresses of the day... to run through a muddy puddle. Thank you, Xander! Yes! So, we ran through the puddle together... a few times...

When we finally started to make our way home, there was some resistance from him along the way. He wanted to go into other peoples driveways... go into the street... For his safety, and in an effort to get us both home before we were too hungry, thirsty and cold... I had to impose my will, though in the most gentle way possible. I explained my/our reasoning and did so with An Open Heart. When we arrived I kept my Word... we had a snack, and got snuggled up in warm clothes and eased into a transition for the next part of the evening...

So, some Gratitude. Thank you, New Beings. Thank you, Puddles. Thank you, Rocks. Thank YOU for the awareness that allowed us to share this experience. And most of all, Thank you, Xander, for being a New Being and bringing out the New Being, in me!

Wise and inspiring words ~

A quote from, of all people, Gweneth Paltrow:

...it has been my personal experience (both as a child and a mother) that children are like little radios picking up our frequency. They know the real truth about what we are feeling versus what we are presenting and it is incredibly isolating to find a major discrepancy between the two. When in my grown-up sphere I am confronted with disappointment or my own intolerance and a bad mood to boot, I often name what is going on (in other words, I say, "Mommy is having a hard day, and I am feeling upset") so that the very mundane human “bad” feelings do not turn into some grim phantom in the room with me. Sometimes I don’t have the maturity in the moment, and when it fails me, I apologize at bedtime when my children and I are having a talk. I have felt my daughter’s whole body sigh in relief when I have simply and very specifically voiced regretting my own behavior.

Here’s to doing the best we can.

...and from one of her inspriations:

I’ve found that one of the most effective ways to be with our children is to try to make sure that they always feel heard. The forums for this change as they grow older, but it was important to us that from a very young age that our children knew that their opinions mattered and that they had a voice.

When they were toddlers, we incorporated them into the routines and decision-making of the household. This was not just a matter of getting them to pitch in. The daily goings-on in the house provided a setting in which the children could exercise their judgment and their preferences. On trips to the store, we gave our two-year-old simple choices about what to buy. It was up to her whether we would have striped or polka-dotted beach towels for the summer. The same was true of getting dressed in the morning. No color coordination is worth forfeiting the empowering feeling of putting together an outfit. For toddlers, this is the equivalent of your parents hanging on your every word.

Our dinner table reflects similar priorities. We work hard to ensure that the opinions of our 10-year-old son and his thoughts on the Presidential Inauguration are given as much air time as those of his politics-obsessed father. While it’s sometimes a struggle to stay as focused on the details of our seventh grader’s 11-0 field hockey game when her high school senior brother is waiting to recount his nail-biter basketball story, that validation goes a long way.

I’ve noticed that the lines begin to blur on the topic of being heard when the kids get into high school. I’m not sure that they want or need to be heard nearly as much as I want to hear them. And they know that information is power. It never occurred to me when I was doing call-and-response clapping with our two-year-old son in Kindermusik that 15 years later, I would stand in the kitchen anticipating the slam of the front door after practice, hoping his grunt of “hey” might turn into a conversation. Or that I would be aware that the odds of getting the first eye contact in three days go up dramatically if he happens to be “starving” and pauses at the refrigerator on his way down to the basement. But I’m trusting that beyond thinking that I’m a needy mom, they know that we value and learn from what they have to contribute.

We don’t outgrow the longing to be heard. I recently returned to work after 18 years at home with our children. At the end of the interview process, I met with the man for whom I would be working. His questions and attention to my narrative made me feel like I had truly been heard and understood. I knew immediately that hour had made the whole journey worth it – regardless of the outcome. I did end up getting the job but I also got a reminder of the importance of actively listening to children – of any age.

-Heidi Butz