I’m his mother … I need to let go
16 Feb 2012
Today, being Thursday, I stayed home with my child. That’s how it goes. Thursday rolls around. We wake up, have breakfast, wave goodbye to Robert. Then we fang around a bit and maybe go for a pram walk, to the shops, just do stuff.
In a hectic week, sometime we don’t even get out of our pyjamas. But this is not a story about our usual life on Thursdays, it is a story about how I have to reconcile the other days. The days when I am not the only strong influence. When I don’t dictate what happens, what gets said, what Benedict eats, who he interacts with – in short this is about the rest of the days of his life.
Sometimes I don’t like what happens in the environment my child inhabits. Sometimes I disagree with what language gets used. I will never, for example, be comfortable with anyone encouraging him to say ‘ta’. Never. I can’t stand it. But people use it with small children. And while at the moment I have beaten it (metaphorically) out of him by saying 40 times an hour ‘ thank you’ – say please and thank you, thank you – it exists out there, threatening to influence him. Sometimes people use terms of endearment I do not like. I do not like, for example, shortened forms of my child’s name. Hate them all. But people shorten his name. Sometimes all the time I can’t do anything about this, without appearing like a total harridan. I got thinking this afternoon, I need to let go. Does it actually matter?
Off I go ... just watch me.
When Benedict was born, I had a strange feeling. Just before he was born, in the seconds before he appeared, I had, what only can be described as, an out-of-body experience. I didn’t lose consciousness, I was completely lucid, I’d had no drugs, but I was definitely watching what was happening to me, to us.
It is the same now. He’s two, but is such a competent person. He can express himself, ask for things, act according to his will and desires and I have to just watch, look on, sometimes in a sort of painful state of suspended animation, until he needs be to assisted. I realised this afternoon, with a shock, that I am just along for the ride. I was at the moment of his birth learning to let go, to watch and hover but to be always already letting him go.
Feb 17, 2012 @ 22:24:50
I read this post on my phone on the train on my way to work this morning. When I reached the paragraph about B’s birth, the little phone screen started to wobble because there were tears in my eyes. Utterly beautiful.
(And although I mightn’t have kids, I totally agree on the “ta” thing. Ugh!)
Feb 20, 2012 @ 20:11:54
Thank you lovely. Sorry for making you cry on the train, but when Benedict was born it a beautiful beautiful moment.
Feb 17, 2012 @ 16:46:48
You have such a sound grasp on what is important. It is all compromise. From the moment they are born. I fight a grandparent who calls a nappy a nap-nap and anything that hurts an ouchie. It drives me nuts. But when I stop being outraged, and a language snob (a terrible one with no right to it!), I realise that my girl will not be saying nap-nap and outchie by the time it matters and I need to let go. Yours is a powerful reminder. And a timely one. xxxooo
Feb 20, 2012 @ 20:10:37
Thank you and when I see your beautiful girl, I am reminded of what a good job we are all doing xox
Feb 17, 2012 @ 14:43:00
You just reminded me of my cousin. We always called him by his full name – Daniel – but at school he became Dan, something his mother was not thrilled about. Now, married and with 2 babies he has reverted. He insists on being called Daniel, much to the amusement of his wife who went to school with him so has always known him as Dan.
You are very right – you have to let go of the small stuff. Stuff like “ta”. It really doesn’t matter and you are so on top of what does.
Michelle xx
Feb 20, 2012 @ 20:09:43
Thank you xox
Feb 17, 2012 @ 11:15:55
All you can do is go along for the ride, and hope for the best. And sometimes, unexpectedly, your efforts will be rewarded. Despite everyone’s reinforcement of “ta”, I found myself teary in the kitchen when a little voice responded, without any prompting, to my provision of a bowl of blueberries with “thank you mummy”. Surely every little bit helps and lodges somewhere in their brains… we can but hope.
Feb 20, 2012 @ 20:06:50
What a good boy he is! It’s true that we are the most significant influence, even when we think we’re not.
Thank you xo
Feb 17, 2012 @ 10:50:52
Beautifully written Louise. Love the photo of Benedict.
Feb 20, 2012 @ 20:05:06
Thank you! He’s very easy to take photos of :)
Feb 16, 2012 @ 22:47:16
Hmm, I hear you… I’ve gone through it in the teen stage, when they are picking up all sorts of unpleasantness from their peers. many times have I raged against it: their ability to pick up sloppy expression, hideous slang, dangling participles, and so forth, from their friends, but anything we say just flies past unnoticed.
I entirely understand, but suspect you’ll do yourself good if you let go to a certain extent, while not losing sight of what you’d like Benedict to become (oh, the irony of hoping that someone called Benedict will not be linguistically corrupted…). I wish you well in your endeavour and would hope to assure you that, whatever they become on the way, your children will almost certainly turn out just fine, even if not exactly as you’d hope. If other people appreciate your child’s manners, then I think you have, ultimately, done a fine job, and the rest is compromise. Bon voyage!
Feb 20, 2012 @ 20:09:13
Thank you. I will keep in mind that is a long journey.