When I envisioned myself as a mother, I had images of myself as a wise-all-knowing and yet still extremely hip/fun and relatable modern woman. My kids would turn to me with curiously piqued, thoughtful questions bubbling up inside them and there I would be- armed with years of education, professional and personal life experiences at the ready. Parents are the first teachers, isn't that how the saying goes? Uh, if so, my family is royally screwed. Sure my kids ask questions nonstop (and always at bedtime) but they're never the questions you're prepared for:
- When will you die?
- How will I die
- Does God see me all the time
You get the idea, the EASY stuff. In the past 5+ years of being a parent I've earned a masters degree in tap dancing or the DC approach of a non-answer: what do you think sweetie? Interesting question, let me think about that, or my favorite: ooooh look over here, something sparkly/on fire!!
In reality, my kids have taught me so much more about myself: where my insecurities are, what my fears are, what I'm beating myself up about. My 5 year old son has suddenly gone from extrovert with charm and self esteem to spare to having major bouts of major self consciousness: WHY IS MY HAIR RED AND CLUMPY? I WANT MY HAIR TO BE FLAT AND WHITE. (SOBS). And the kicker: I DONT LIKE MYSELF. Damn. That hurt. Yes it hurt to see him sad but It also felt a lot like MOM failure, to let my little guy be so vulnerable like that.
This fear to be different, to stand out, to not be accepted by your pack and loved for just being you resonated with me. It actually hit me in the gut like a punch. How many times had these same thoughts gone through my own adult head? How much time did I waste, do I still waste, wishing things were different? Wishing I were different? Wasn't I just upstairs trying on a new bathing suit and unleashing a tirade against myself so bitter and damaging, it would stop a playground full of feral 5 year old boys in their tracks? How could I teach him to love himself just the way he was when I was still trying to learn this damn lesson myself?!
I obviously don't have the answers. But I know that when I hug him and tell him that everyone has days where they feel like this, it's the truth. I tell him his feelings are real and that I hear him, love him no matter what. We read Stinky Face who's mother loves him despite a host of perplexing conditions that beset the poor lad.
I give him an extra dose of love and try to remember to save some extra patience, love and admiration for myself. If modeling the behavior we want to see in our kids is an effective tool, and I believe that it is, it looks like I have some of my own work that I need to do.
Thanks for the lesson oh wise one, my adorable, hilarious red headed teacher.
