Just a Swingin'

     I personally find myself always feeling like I'm in a rush, so in turn, I rush my kids.  No matter what they are doing, I find myself uttering, "Hurry up, will ya?"  Now, sometimes, the rush is warranted, like if we are running behind getting to preschool, dance, or a play date and one (if not both) kiddies decide that they want to try and strap themselves into their car seats.  (I literally picture my hair graying and the wrinkles forming as they take their sweet time trying to figure out the contraptions.)  On many occasions I've had to basically tell myself to slow down.  Why am I in such a hurry anyway?  Where's the fire?  (As if I could put it out.) We could have all the time in the world and yet for some reason I feel like we have to go a million miles an hour.  I blame society really for all the hustle and bustle just to actually get nowhere.  *wink*  Today however, I had a slow down moment.  And it was glorious.  I shall do it again soon.

     One of the memaws took Li'l B to storytime (which was a trial run that surprisingly went great, I think he's growing up!), so that left Miss G and me to ourselves.  She loves the park near our house but I am apprehensive to take both kids there as it is tailored more towards bigger kids, i.e. Miss G's age and older, and long falls for Li'l B. (The last time we went there, daddy was with us and had no fear about B climbing all over these skyscraper-height playlands and all I could picture was him tumbling through an opening....*shudder*.)  Okay, so maybe they're not "skyscraper" height, but to a mother, they are monstrous. So, I told her that we would go to the "Big Park", which brought on numerous squeals.

     We get to the park and G wants to climb up the dome, hang, drop down, climb again, hang, drop down, climb again, well, you get the gist.  So, I stand there, watching her, looking around, thinking of what I need to accomplish this afternoon.  While marking off "things to do" in my head, I hear G saying, "Mommy!  Mommy!  Let's go swing!"  And off she runs.  I walk towards her and decide to sit on the swing beside her.  She starts kicking her legs out and in, slowly getting higher and higher exclaiming, "This is FUN!"  I decide to partake.  As I get going higher and higher, I lay back so that I'm looking at everything behind me upside down. I started to feel like a kid again.  Free, no worries, just fun and giggles.  Miss G screams, "Mommy!  That looks like fun!"  I say to her, "It is!!"  The higher I go, the freer I feel.  Swinging isn't getting chores done around the house, it isn't getting us anywhere except for back and forth.  But the sun was shining down, we were both laughing, and I just relaxed and let the sunlight and warmth bask over me.  Right in the moment, lists disappeared from my mind, worries dissipated, I only concentrated on going higher, feeling the breeze on my face and through my hair.  I closed my eyes, seeing the red of the sun and gave all of it to flitter away in the wind.  I smiled. 

    Something as simple as swinging got me to thinking, we are so used to rushing around in this world: to the store, to doctor's appointments, to work, home, running errands, that we may unintentionally be rushing our children's childhoods too.  When they are trying to buckle their seat belts, we immediately rush in to do it for them instead of standing back and letting them learn.  Or when they are trying to tie their shoes, we want to swoop in as to save time.  When they are outside playing we may find ourselves bored because we feel it is not productive.  But it is.  Maybe if we followed a child's example, we'd all learn to slow down a bit, let go, and jump on the swings. 



     Miss G and me on our first swing together, 4.10.10.

When a Fishy Jumps Ship (aka, 1st Day of Preschool)

   



      I was surprised really.  I thought there would be lots of tears, constant hugging, grabbing onto ankles while crying out, "Don't leave me!"  But no.  I was brave.  Miss G had been so excited about starting preschool and I for sure thought, "Yeah, until the day of, then we shall see."  There were no tears, lots of hugging though (I just couldn't let her go, give me a break!), and strong smiles to cover up the heartache.  Okay, it was mainly myself that I was worried about because I realized one day that she is already a very strong, independent child, and while I'm extremely proud, it still scares the sh*t outta me!  Aren't I needed anymore?  Aren't I wanted?  It's just that easy to turn and walk away with a wave over her shoulder?  Oh the humanity! 

     Her little brother and I walked her into the building, G excitedly holding onto the straps of her book bag, eyes wide and full of excitement, big smile plastered on her face.  I held out my hand for her to grab and she politely said, "No mommy, I don't need to hold your hand, I want to hold onto my book bag."  I just looked down at her, bewildered, as if someone had come up and sucker-punched me in the stomach.  She proudly looked straight ahead, not noticing my shocked face.  "O-kay," I said slowly and held onto Li'l B a little tighter.  We got to her classroom and I thought, "Alright, this is where she'll realize what is going to happen.  That her brother and I will be leaving."  But instead, she ran right in, said hello to her teacher and started playing with the toys.  Her brother also slid out of my arms and ran off.  As we were leaving, G ran up to me and said, "Bye, mommy.  I'll miss you."  And gave me a big hug.  I told her to be good, gave her a kiss, and picked Li'l B up (after prying him off of her. We both had a tough time leaving).  He and I made our way from the room and as we were started down the hall I heard G's voice yelling, "Mommy!  Mommy!"  I turned around, ready for her to come running, crying out, "Don't leave!"  But instead she had Li'l B's blanket that he had forgotten in the classroom.  "Here mommy, B forgot this and I knew he would want it."  And just like that, she turned and ran back to her classroom.  I gave Li'l B another big squeeze. 

     When we went to pick her up, I asked her teacher how she'd been.  I fretted over her not getting her way and throwing a tantrum or that she had transformed into Miss Bossy-Pants.  Her teacher told me that my Miss G was most likely going to be her special helper as she is so "motherly".  A little boy in her class was crying after his parents left and G walked over to him, attempted to put her arm around him, and sang him a song about how "grown-ups come back".  Her teacher was extremely impressed, as was I.  I've seen how she can be with her brother but to go up to a boy she just met and try to console him, my heart swelled 5 sizes with pride.  I then realized again just how grown-up she was; no longer a toddler, void of how others feel, but a little girl filled with so much compassion and a caring spirit.  She did not need me to remind her to be nice or considerate, she stepped up without hesitation, and I couldn't be more impressed. 

     Whenever we leave our little ones (pretty much) to their own devices, without us around to guide them, or hover, they're really interchangeable, we wonder, "Are they making the right choices?  Are they behaving like civilized human beings?  What have I unleashed into the world?"  Everyday, and I'm aware I've said this before, I realize that they truly are watching our example, not just listening to the words we're spitting out at them.  They are learning compassion, sincerity, leadership, grace.  I know there will be misunderstandings, tantrums, anger issues, etc., but her first day truly exceeded my expectations.  And my own actually, for I absolutely thought I would bawl like a baby.  I guess that comes when Li'l B starts school because he is the last. And you know what?  She can't wait to go back. She has asked every hour, everyday and she only goes two days a week. (I better emotionally prepare myself again...this is exhausting!)