I had just written this as my New Year’s Day Facebook status: Harnessing this tremendous New Year’s energy surge of openness, possibility, and hope. Bonne Annee, tout le monde!
Then I lifted my fingers off of the keyboard and got up to go for my run I’d been procrastinating “just to check Facebook, first” and Declan said, “Mom, can you help me?”
I hear this pretty regularly, and there was no urgency to this particular request, but I went right into the kitchen. Huge spill of water all over everything all over the kitchen table (covered with craft supplies that had just been put away the day before, only to be reopened ten minutes later) and the floor.
Declan was worried he would lose all of his new “Magic Marbles” (plastic beads that expand into cool gel blobs in a tank of water) and was standing there, trying to keep them from rolling onto the floor. The first thing out of my mouth was kind of a mean, irritated, “Get a towel!” Then, in kind of a huge-overblown-life-lesson kind of way, with a tinge of sarcasm, “The first thing we do in a huge crisis like this is get a towel.”
As I left the room to get a large towel, I thought, wow, did you *just* write that whole thing about openness, possibility, and hope? Got nothing nice to say right now? Then clam it.
Returned to the scene of our mini-flood, wondering how so much water could come out of such a small vessel, and he and I worked around each other, Declan scooping up gel marbles, me sopping up endless streams of water. Then I tried again something new I’ve done when I get angry. I wondered what else I could “see” about the situation. I saw in myself this massive irritation, like a personal affront, that just as I was about to go for a run, I had to clean up this crazy mixed-media mess. Fine, you’re angry. Moving on…..
And I suddenly saw this amazing little boy who loves his new Magic Marbles so much.
I saw my son assume total responsibility for them, carefully scooping up each blobby bead, one at a time.
I saw my memory of how he bought them with his own money last night, so excited.
I saw his total focus on the task.
And then….
I saw that this had been an accident.
I knew that going in, but suddenly I saw it for what it was. Just an accident he asked for a hand with in cleaning up.
And I saw the gift in watching him in this way, something I would have missed were it not for this spill.
As I put away the craft supplies that survived, threw out the ones that didn’t make it, I realized that I was now seeing a clean kitchen table, something I really wanted to do before he started doing his Magic Marbles on it, but didn’t.
I saw the clear space between us, too. How he was so animated about his other grow-creatures project in the other jar, and how he felt free to guess with me what the next encapsulated bug would turn into. He knew I wasn’t angry, I was just loving him and wiping up the water. Which I then saw as what it was available to be all along – an act of love.
I felt so good about this, and thought, I have to share this story. Then Quinn came in and said, “MOM CAN YOU GET MY DOLLY DRESSED? RIGHT NOW!”
I just breathed. And I realized a little more.
Just take it down a notch. We’re not going for perfect parent. We’re not going for “never yells” right now. We’re just taking it down a notch. That I can do.