It rained today (well now it's yesterday) so our plans to spend the morning outside
were diverted. We went to Target instead, Natalie wanted more bubbles and we
needed to pick out Mother’s day cards. She really wanted blue bubbles (blue is
currently her favorite color) and I hoped we would find some, we did; 100 fl
ozs. I also got her this spill proof bubble kit hoping that it would help our
bubble liquid last more than a few hours. We seem to trip over, dump out or
Natalie decides to “take a bubble bath” with the bubble liquid each time we
bring it out. We also picked up a little Thomas the Train toy and a puzzle map
of the United States. Yes, these last two were total impulse buys, Target won
again.
When we got home the rain had stopped and so we spent the
rest of the morning outside blowing bubbles. The spillproof bubble blower kit
is the best money I could have spent! It has made blowing bubbles a clean and
accident free past time. After naptime we made chocolate chip cookies. Natalie
loves to wear her apron, stand on the chair and pour the ingredients into the
mixer. Because I have an unhealthy obsession with cookie dough myself, I let
her lick the beater and the spatula and the bowl.
In between, these fun activities, I guarded Emmett and
myself from episodes of kicking toddler legs, blocked the state of Nevada
puzzle piece from hitting Emmett in the head while I fed him and took a wooden
block to the collarbone. No matter how many times we tell her to keep her legs
far away from all of us she loves to see how close she can swing them before
she hits one of us or we wrestle her immobile.
Tommy got home and I eventually complained, “I thought we had
such a good day, I bought her bubbles, we baked cookies…” And then I stopped
myself. I realized I had conjured in my
mind this equation that doing fun things should equal something. Like, “I
bought you bubbles so don’t hit your brother” or “we baked cookies and I let
you eat the dough so don’t karate kick me.” Adults can’t even infer what
another adult is thinking; why in the world would I think my daughter could
read my mind? I remembered my daughter
is two, she is ONLY two. Her “Terrible
Twos” are not even terrible, she tests the limits, speaks in this whiny fake
cry voice that drives us crazy, her legs are out of control and she gets really
hyper right at bedtime.
I can never take it personally when I do not get the
reaction from my children that I want. They can’t read my mind. I can’t let my
feelings get hurt because I feel that my efforts are not appreciated. To my
daughter, blowing bubbles, baking cookies, reading books, spending time together
is just what we do. Just like her wild legs, experiments with gravity or not
listening are not personal. She is two. She is learning and having fun. This is
what she does.
Sometimes it’s the meal I make that I put more effort into,
but she totally turns it down. Or I braid her hair and she pulls it out. The day will come when we congratulate her on
a performance, whether athletic, artistic or musical, and she will dismiss our words
of praise and encouragement because she is critiquing herself on the inside.
She will know herself best and will know if perhaps she could have given more
or done something different. But we will never withhold our words of
encouragement or praise even if they are not received in the way we hope for. I
will never tell her she is ungrateful or unappreciative of anything.
I think the heart of my desire is good, I want to show my
kids with everything I do and say, “I love you so much, don’t you know that?!”
And it hits me, isn’t that what God is trying to tell me, too. And how often do
I take notice, say thank you or change my behavior. I am so grateful He doesn’t
stop trying, doesn’t get discouraged, and keeps giving over and over
again. I am confident in His love for
me, knowing that it is regardless of what I do or don’t do. However, in the
times that I really consider it, I am moved so much that I have to act. As a
parent, I can only hope that my children are just as confident in my love for
them, that they never have to say or do anything (what if so some reason they
physically/mentally couldn’t, would that really change what I offer) Though, perhaps
as they grow up and grow in more understanding of that love, it will move them
too.
Unconditional love. May I never ever put a condition on
anything I give my children. May I always say that I am a convert; that my
heart is constantly changing, renovating, growing.
I guess it is pretty personal after all...
