Parenting is so surprising. The journey gets more and more nuanced and nebulous as we go. I thought having kids would be so straightforward. I pictured my children all looking and acting very much alike, dressed in smocked dresses and liederhosen, speaking several languages by Montessori school graduation. They would be prodigies on their tiny violins and read on a high school level while still in diapers. At six, they would say things like, "Nietzsche said God is dead, but now Nietzsche dead." We would spend summers in the Algarve so they could brush up on their Portuguese, and for Christmas, they would receive intricate model cars, antique dolls and first editions of Charles Dickens.
Eleven years later, my kids can't even flush a toilet. They can't. Xanthe is enrolled in a preschool I chose from a sign at Albertson's. My first grader is reading at a first grade level. Golda is convinced I don't know anything about music. Nobody plays the violin. Ruby is getting bones broken by bullies. Freestone acted like a human pinball at group guitar tonight. None of this was part of the original plan. I did not picture my son as the one who would flap his arms wildly and shout uncontrollably in a guitar lesson. I thought my kid would be the one in a Ralph Lauren tie sitting next to the shouting boy, wondering what was wrong with him.
Each child is a 500-piece puzzle, and each situation that arises is only one piece. Sometimes I feel like I get the piece to fit, and sometimes I cannot find where it goes. It would help if I knew what the puzzle was supposed to look like when it was finished, but I don't. I'm focused on these five beautiful, intricate puzzles, and I don't even know if I'm putting them together right. I might be damaging the edges. I might be forcing pieces to fit where they shouldn't. I might be getting it all wrong. I don't know.
I do know this: Parenting is a spiritual journey. We are not in it alone. I have asked for help, I have been blessed with it. With each child, I have been given strengths I didn't have before. Puzzles take patience. I'm praying for the inspiration to get all the pieces to fit. And praying Freestone can someday control his cute little arms and legs.
10 comments:
What a great post. I too have the perfect expectations for being a mommma to Tate. My friends cannot wait until my expectations come crashing down and reality hits. Even thought we do not know what the finished puzzles looks like, we do know with guidance the puzzle will be a beautiful finished project.
Ditto - I totally agree. Another beautiful post.
Circe- You put my thoughts into words perfectly. I was having this conversation with Clint last night about how each day I just can't get it together. Each day is so different one minute Cade is my sweet little boy the next he is a ragging terror. Now I can explain to Clint exactly how I feel.
Oh,you are so wise Circ. I tend to get frustrated when I can't make the pieces fit!
Beautiful Circ... while your children didn't do all those things you listed.. They are extraordinary in many, many ways.
Circe- I love this post... I got a giggle out of every line. Such is life...right? Thanks for the humor. Thinking about having a sushi rolling party...would you and Scott be game?
That is very beautiful. Thank Heaven we are not in this alone! You are an amazing person and I'm so glad I get to see you and your children...and read your insights.
I loved it. I can totally relate. I had a friend that would pray each night that she didn't scar her children too much that day. Some days I relate to that.
I love how you put parenting in to words.....
somethings seem so indescribable, but you always manage to do it!
The flapping of the arms and legs must be a boy thing!
Post a Comment