As a parent, I was never as challenged, relative to my experience, as I was when I was the at-home mother of four children under eight-years-old. No other period compares to the unknowns,
and twists and turns, and sudden joys and gifts of perspective of that one.
However, as
chaotic as this dance with the universe may have felt, it
was greatly balanced by the illusion of control. I had everyone where I could
see them. At some point, when you don’t
have them where you can see them, they begin their own dance with the universe.
From the smallest beautiful things – seeing my small son lost
in a book, singing on the swings with my daughter – to all the rest, emergency room visits, boundary issues, worn out teachers, mean kids, and so on, my gift from the universe was the awareness that praise for handling everyday uncertainty wasn't what I needed as much as the everyday certainty that I would cope with whatever I had to.
But
praise was nice, too.
At
a local youth organization, I have just implemented an “empowerment” program
for little kids. I will be
witnessing their introduction to the universe in real time. In
large and small ways, I will see them step into it every day, and witness the
good and not so good choices they make to get along. They are just learning
that there even is a universe beyond the driveway, so I feel privileged
to be a person who might help them stay upright.
I
think about their parents thinking about them, out of sight like that. At the
end of my day at the club, I sometimes see them at pick-up, signing their kids out. Some
are cheerful and ready for their second shift of grocery stops, dinner and
homework help. Some
look like they may be dealing with residual worry from the work day they’ve
just left, others look like they are hovering between patience and fatigue.
Some are solo parents, and some are guardians or grandparents.
Few look like
they expect someone to hand them a reward for their coping skills.
Yesterday,
I met with my new group – four ten-year-olds – to sign them up. They must have
crept into my heart through an open door while I was asking their names and
what kind of things make them worry, but smitten, I was.
As
I was leaving, I saw a mother signing her child out who happened to be one of
my group kids.
I
was headed her way, and I could have kept walking – it was cold and rainy and I
wanted to check texts in my warm car. But this mother, now quietly standing and
waiting for her daughter to appear, looked like she could use a bit of
unexpected praise.
So,
I turned around and walked back.
“Are
you (name)’s mother?” I asked.
She
looked startled, guarded.
“Yes,”
she said, as if what I said next could go either way, a discipline thing,
or a behavioral observation. You don’t expect those things when children are
still asking you for juice and grapes, but out of sight, where they will make
their tiny choices, you begin to expect anything, from any direction.
I
told her that I’d just met her daughter, and about the group she’s in. Her face
was still fixed in that startled position, so I said, “I just want you to know,
she is probably one of the sweetest, nicest and kindest kids I’ve met here. I was charmed."
And
now the face changed. She gave a big relieved laugh and said, “Oh! Yeah! She’s
quite a pistol, yeah!”
“I’ve
noticed, that kids like that, who are so good with others, usually come from
some example of that. So, nice job," I
said.
On the way home, I thought about the way she looked when I said that. When people don’t get, or stop expecting rewards for things they are doing with all
their heart, but then do get a few words of praise, well, the look is like
one you’d get if you walked up to a child,
handed them a cheerfully wrapped gift with a big bow and said, “Here.
This is for you because you work very hard and it’s something you really want.”
It
was a gift for both of us, from our friend, the universe.
Today, find a parent who is trying and tell them, "good job." They don't expect it, they don't need it, but it's something they really want, and they won't forget it.
