two.
In gratitude.
Today: My Mirror
[i will preface this was something off topic. last post i totally cold-dissed my computer and sure enough 20 minutes after I hit send, my computer was pronounced dead. it’s gone. so my ‘30 day in a row of thanks’ business will be ‘30 days when i can get on another computer’. unfortunately, uncle sam went and took a bunch of money i was hoping for to buy the much lusted after ibook, so patience will be my practice as i await the funds for my new machine. hand jobs on the corner anyone? 20 bucks a pop].
* * *
Sula! If you don’t give me that right now I am going to get a better toy and I am never going to share it with you ever!
Sula! I am gonna smack you in the head with this bowl at your head if you don’t give me the blue marker!
Sula! I am going to throw you out the window if you don’t give me my book!
* * *
Mia. Those words you used with Sula today are not kind ways to talk to anybody. You can choose words that will make you feel better and won’t make Sula sad.
Long after the fact of the numerous five-year old volcanic expressions, I sat down to talk to her.
But mama, you talk like that.
And I look in her big brownish, greenish, yellowish round saucers for eyes with lashes that are illegally long. She looks right back at me, then glance away for a moment, knowing in some little kid way that what she is telling me is going to make me react somehow, she knows that what she is saying to me is big for me.
I don’t use those words, but evidently my sentiment falls through the holes in the sieve.
I do? I talk like that? I don’t say those things to you.
More quietly than she has been all day Yes mama. You talk mad last day and today. I am just talking mad like you.
* * *
And everyday I get to look into this mirror. Today it looked ugly, like beyond bad hair and acne. It was horrible mother day in my river valley. Yes. She is right. My level of stress has been so high and my voice reflects how totally and utterly unconscious I am about it. Sometimes a straight up look in the mirror is all I need.
I have been watching how my voice sounds, the energetic quality and the words I choose even when I am totally frustrated and want to throw every last one of the out the window, shedding, slobbering four-legged friends included.
Thank you mirror, for reminding me how to walk my talk.
Oh hugs MB… you are not alone. We all have our frustrated moments. It comes with the territory of giving ourselves so completely to the care of others, that our own are so often waylaid. Can you get out for a few hours, and do something just for you? Your soul seems to need it.
Comment by Melinda — March 16, 2009 @ 3:04 pm
BTW… my Sara talks the same way… usually to her sister… who dishes it right back. sigh
Comment by Melinda — March 16, 2009 @ 3:05 pm
Hm. I have been thinking lately of the idea of “grotesque” and noodling over a post about this very thing. How our children are mirrors in the most exaggerated way, and depending on your perspective, it can either be very easy to miss or impossible to deny.
It IS heartbreaking… my son’s grotesque has been hitting himself on the head, “I am bad, I messed it up!” What do I do when I realize what he is doing? Make a motion of stabbing myself in the heart because I’ve messed up my perfect parenting plan! We are a feedback loop of self-recrimination.
The irony, the opportunity, the resonance.
I have talked mad so much this last year… I try to turn toward gratitude, realizing I never would have the chance to learn about applying the dharma duct-tape if I had been silent all this time.
Blessings to you and your family…
Comment by Stacy (mama-om) — March 16, 2009 @ 4:39 pm
Seriously - for real. You wrote me up. This is me, for about three weeks now, volcanic and eruptive. One minute calm(er) and the next, a fucking psycho-path. I step back at times, fleeting, and I see my kids for the beauty they are. But when it all spins around me, Moira incessantly fussy and whining (what feels all the time) and Finn, utterly 3-years old, I scream. Liam said similar words to me about being mad last week. I cried. It kills me. I fear being so short-tempered and wish - WISH - there was a pill I could take to erase that part of me. Horrible? I know it’s just who I am, and with that comes efficiency and creativity and abundant love in the same intensity as my impatience. Damn it feels good to not be alone. (Hugs)
Comment by Jo — March 16, 2009 @ 7:06 pm
what beautiful responses. you said what i didn’t know how.
thank you.
and melinda, sick baby this week, but i do get a babysitter one day a week so i can do whatever i want:) thank you for your hug…
Comment by misplacedmama — March 17, 2009 @ 6:37 am
Thank you for your strength to put to words what I am going through….that mirror reflects big, huh?
Yesterday I was so flustered I threatened to take away the chairs…a great moment in patience, tolerance and loving kindness!
Comment by Karen — March 17, 2009 @ 1:05 pm
…the mirror also reflects back your pure, inner beauty.
xoxo
Comment by MereMortal — March 17, 2009 @ 5:59 pm
What MereMortal said.
And yes, I have two mirrors too. actually, three. today while I yelled at one to stop bothering the other, my baby gazed up at me from my nipple with big, questioning eyes. Already.
I love my mirrors, keeps me on my toes.
You are inspiring. Thank you for sharing. xoxo
Comment by janis — March 18, 2009 @ 2:06 am