I am a Villager

There are times when words are chosen with great care when discussing things with a two and a half year old. I seldom give her enough credit for her knowledge of things in general and the ability to really understand what we are saying. Sure, she has convenient hearing like most young children, but she also has an amazing sense of compassion and understanding that makes her seem wise beyond her years. Our close friend LizBet described her as having an old soul at times. I couldn't agree more.

Last Thursday, the girls and I left the house on an adventure. We were traveling a little ways down the road to Goochland Courthouse to order a GF cake for Miss Roo's big birthday bash. The weather was a tad chilly and there were rather seriously looking skies around, so we spent some time looking out at our surrounding as we drove. Moo asked questions about the countryside and I silently longed for where I grew up - summers that seemed to never end, lightning bugs in Mason jars, and mountains.

We drove past a school with a lot of yellow buses, fields with grazing cattle, farm houses, ponds, and the river. We found the main street and the bakery. We kept driving to explore for a few more minutes before turning around to go back to order Roo's cake. As we crossed the river again, we came upon a building now on Moo's side of the van.

"What's dat, Mommy?" she asked pointing at the colonial looking building and grounds.

Great. The prison. How do I answer THIS question.

I remembered reading a blog entry from Checklist Mommy that I had linked to my Facebook page on calling strangers "Tricky People" rather than strangers. There are times when your child might need a stranger if something happens -you're at the Children's Museum and she can't find you. Other Mommies are strangers but they can help you find Mommy. However some people might be out there to hurt you. These people are tricky people.

From this article I also thought about the consequences present from branding certain people as "bad" to my children.  Often we throw the word bad around without thinking of the lasting effects such a word has on our children because they ARE listening to us.  We are all guilty of making poor decisions from time to time. Some decisions are just larger and carry larger consequences than others. I wanted to be sure to not plant the seed of "bad" people in her head regarding a prison. I'd like to think that our system works occasionally and that some men and women use their incarceration to better themselves and plan for their future.

Somehow ALL of this runs through my head in 5 seconds. So, what do I tell her about the prison?? I quickly read the sign and I remember that it indicated there were mental and substance abuse treatment there (the exact words are now cloudy). It was also a women's center.

"Sometimes people are a little sick in their minds. That makes them do not nice things. They can go there and the people and doctors try to make them better."

Silence. Was that too much, I wonder.

"Oooh. Those poor people."

I glance at her and she genuinely has a look of compassion on her face. My eyes well up.

"Aww Baby Girl you're so sweet. "

"They will be otay, Mommy?"

"I hope so, baby."

We pull into the bakery parking lot and I get both my girls out of the van. We order our cake and I buy a cupcake for us to share as a treat. I load them back into the van and divvy the treat between them. Roo stuffs her face. Moo licks her icing. She giggles at me and then her sister. I look at them and wonder how I have managed to be blessed with two gorgeous and wonderful girls.

I know I can't protect them from the harshness of the world forever. There will be times when I will have to use terms that may be uncomfortable for us all but are needed to convey the gravity of the situation. I also want to teach my children compassion, love, and forgiveness. Setting them up to stereotype those around them hurts them more than anyone else. I was very thankful I had read something from another Mom that helped me with my girls in a moment where there was no manual for what to do or say. Far too often we try to do everything on our own, assuming that we are the Mom and therefore we should have all the answers.  We have some answers, but we are only one person. We need each other. We need to talk, to listen, and to learn. Not everything I say here works for everyone but it will work for some Mom who is suddenly faced with a decision for herself or her child.

That's why I write. I know I need villagers to help raise my children. Someday I hope to be that small voice in someone's mind. I hope that for a second they think and find the resolve to instill a sense of compassion in their children rather than an instant dismissal of someone they don't know. And I hope they are proud of their child. And them self.

I can see Moo's face in my mind as I glanced in the rear view mirror that cloudy, grey day. I saw a truth in that moment.

Go get 'em, girl!

Cutting through the Grey

I can clearly remember being at a friends party several summers ago. His son wanted to help cut his birthday cake. My friend handed his son the seemingly HUGE knife and said "Here, son. This is the way you cut a cake with a knife." My friend then turned to some of the adults standing around and said "If he wants to use the knife it's my job to be sure he knows how to do it correctly." I must confess that I was one of THOSE friends.

I was quietly appalled. No way, I thought. I continued an internal dialog that warned of the dangers of letting a child so young even touch a knife much less use it for any task. He was much too young and that lesson was misplaced. As a parent I would have said no. As a parent I would have had the final say. As a parent I would have decided the time and place for any lesson dealing with anything "dangerous".  Clearly I was qualified to make such judgments because I had NO children of my own.

Miss Moo is quite bright for not quite two and a half. I know that all parents think that their children are smart and rightly so. There are a few areas where she seems to excel and at times that clouds our memory her age. Lately she has been very interested in helping me in the kitchen during meals and particularly at dinner time. Most nights I spend more time redirecting and then fussing for failed listening on her part than I did listening TO her.

A few weeks ago I was cutting vegetables for our salad while the girls played in the family room. Moo meandered her way into the kitchen and pulled her step stool up to the cart where I was cutting vegetables. "I want to help you Mommy!" she excitedly announced. My first instinct was to send her back to play and remind her that knives aren't toys for little girls. Then suddenly I heard my friend's voice :
"Here, son. This is the way you cut a cake with a knife." 

There was a lesson residing in this moment. Was it a lesson that would be taught?

Did I have the final say as the parent? Of course. Did I say no? Of course not. I smiled and began to show her how to hold a table knife and how to hold the cucumber. We practiced keeping the knife on the end far away from our fingers. We worked slowly. We worked together and then on our own. Making salad was very smooth and stress free that evening.

As parents, there is no manual that magically appears when we have our children. The is a sense of right and wrong, but I have learned more often than not there is a huge area of "grey".  Each child is different. How boring would it be if all children learned in the same way at the same pace? Grey areas can cause a parent and child a great deal of frustration. However they can also be a space of great joy and learning for everyone. Our grey spaces have evolved- we now see the rainbow after the storm rather than the grey skies.

Perhaps I should call my friend and tell him thanks.