Today's post is to acknowledge a small moment that filled my heart with so much gratitude and awareness. A symbolic moment.
My 16yo son shares his life between my place and his dad's place. Over the years, he has for the most part learnt to deal with the differences in each of the households; and I think has benefited from having parents that are very different in many ways; yet who are able to now relate to each other without outward conflict or passive aggression.
If you are a parent, you probably know that parenting is a lifelong learning experience (a baby does not come with a manual). There are few absolute rights and few absolute wrongs when it comes to parenting (although media, and social conditioning would suggest otherwise).
It probably doesn't surprise my regular followers that I have a relatively laissez faire attitude towards parenting. Ever since I was aware of his existence, I have been super conscious of not wanting to turn my child into a "mini-me" or hold him to a "do what I say, not what I do" regime. My only expectation is that one day he will lead a revolution (but that has been a long standing private joke between my son and I ... although secretly I really do want him to lead a revolution!) As a parent I have been incredibly fortunate. I have never had an occasion (yet) in anger or frustration that I have raised my voice to him. Only once when he was a toddler did I find myself in one of those out of control moments. We had just finished grocery shopping, I had a trolley full of groceries and entering the car park. My son let go of the trolley and ran off, for a few moments (which seemed like an eternity) I lost sight of him. When I finally found him, my hand went back. In mid swing, I caught myself. It was in that moment with absolute clarity I realised that my impulsive action all had to do with my fear, my anger, my frustration, my stress. He was just a curious toddler exploring his freedom and totally unaware of his predicament. I immediately got down on my knees and hugged him tight. In all the intervening years, it was that carpark moment that always came to mind whenever I would feel frustrated or angry about being a parent, so instead of allowing my emotions in a difficult moment to dictate my parenting, I would always find the space to take a deep breath and get myself back under control before resolving any situation with him. I have a beautiful relationship with my son which has evolved over these years. We have been through some tough times together. We have been through some good times together.
As some of you know, I grew up on a farm and when you grow up on a farm as soon as you can walk, you are assigned jobs to do. That is the only way a farm can survive - it is a team effort and everyone plays their role. My first paid job was when I was 7 - picking onions with the rest of my family - to make ends meet. We would have to get up before sunrise to drive to the job and would be home after sunset. The money I earned went towards my schooling fees. Although that was my upbringing, it was not a practice that I put into place when I became a parent. Over the years, I have not given my son a set of chores to do around the house. I know that can be seen as spoiling my child or being too easy and what good can come from that. Although he hasn't been sent to task, I have watched my son grow up with a sense of maturity, responsibility, generosity, tolerance and social awareness that belies his years. (If he happens to read this post, I am sure that he will give me a very high cringe factor rating for that last sentence - I always want to beat my last cringe factor score - he needs something for his later years of therapy.)
So this small, insignificant moment came about when he returned to my house for this week. The past couple of times, the laundry basket has been overflowing with clean clothes that I did not find the time to put away throughout the week. This week, as a small sense of achievement to myself, I was going to have that laundry folded and put away before he came home. He arrived earlier than expected, and I was only half way through my task. I told him I was disappointed, not that he was home earlier than expected but that I was so determined to have that job done before he arrived and that his early arrival had thwarted me of that opportunity. Instead of just rolling his eyes at me with that particular "crazy mum" way he has, he simply said "Well I can help you finish it as soon as I put my stuff away". And, so we did ... we sat on my bed, chatting and folding fresh laundry. It was one of those moments of pure contentment.
The next morning when I came down for breakfast, the dishwasher was empty. When I asked him, "Did you put the dishes away". He just looked at me and with that hint of a smile and said "No, they put themselves away." I am not sure where this spark of domestication has come from; but I think he is also very aware that his childhood is slipping away and in his measured way he is stepping up to the plate for the next phase.
Flying Solo Tip 073365 : When it is time, step up to the plate.
