The things we do for our children

I was walking through our local park, home to tactless teens and moody mums, when I heard an almighty wail. Distracted from our duck watching, LLC and I turned to see a little girl of about four burst into a tearful meltdown while her mother wrestled desperately with a long reed. At first glance it was a bizarre sight.

And then I saw it: a small doll, partially enveloped by the murky algae-rife water of the adjacent pond, gently bobbing away three feel below the pavement lining the water’s edge. I now approached sympathetically just as the mother won her battle with the reed and our eyes met.

“Would you keep your eye on my two while I try to fish out her dolly,” she desperately enquired motioning at her hysterical daughter and slightly stunned smaller son, confined within a pushchair.

“Sure, of course.” I murmured gentle words of encouragement to the little girl as her mother poked and prodded her doll through the railing. With each unsuccessful effort, her level of hysteria mounted. The reed was just too short.

“I better try from the other side of the railing,” the mother reasoned. She moved further down the pavement where the railing began and moved to the other side, gripping it as she shimmied along the concrete slant leading to the water’s edge.

Try as she might, the doll was still out of her reach. Her daughter’s tears reached a new powerful crescendo while her son and LLC watched on in awe from their strollers.

“Here, take my hand,” I offered. We locked fingers and I braced my shoulder against the railing for leverage. “I’ve got you.” I extended my full arm  through the bars until the railing dug into my shoulder. But that reed was flimsy and useless, and the doll swirled and dipped with each failed attempt to fish it out.

“If I lay down and you grab my ankle, maybe I’ll be able to reach just a big further,” Reed Mama cringed.

“Sure, yes, go for it,” I tried to pump her up. “Okay, I’ve got your ankle. I won’t let you go.”

And this is how another kind mother found us. She promptly detached the sun cover of her pushchair and passed it down to Reed Mama, who used it as a much more effective fishing line to catch and capture the sodden dolly. We three mothers exhaled, and cheered.

Back on level ground on the right side of the railing, Reed Mama presented the beloved dolly to her crestfallen little lady. Dirty and wet, the doll reflected the wear and tear of her ordeal and this brought on a fresh wave of wailing.

Reed mama rolled her eyes at me, dusting the dirt from her clothing.

Magic

Children are magic. Maybe it takes becoming a parent and having your own kids to marvel at to really realize this. Maybe it’s just a matter of temporarily disconnecting from the noise of adult life to observe children and see the world through their eyes to recognize it.

What I do know, is that LLC has the striking ability to cut through my consciousness at the most unanticipated times, stopping me in my tracks and providing respite to my heart and mind as if a restorative tonic.

Like when I’m struggling to prepare LLC’s dinner, prep for Chris and my dinner and wash the dishes from breakfast and lunch when LLC burrows her head in my bum and throws her arms around my waist.

Or when I’m huffing and puffing up a hill on my bicycle, cursing the exertion of it all when I notice LLC lolling from side to side in the seat on the back of Chris’ bike; the fresh air and motion have lulled her to sleep.

Like when LLC stands tall, shoulder backs, belly out (no holding in the stomach for her!) focusing her attention 100% on learning how to remove a CD from a CD case.

Or when she gets frustrated and slaps me, but the immediately provides a gentle follow-up stroke and cheeky kiss. In her mind the latter has completely undone her previous assault. We are working on this to encourage this affection in its own right rather than as an apology!

Such small but significant moments. I think it has something to do with children’s innocence, instinct and the ability to live wholly in the present, drinking in each sensory experience for what it actually is. Though it’s impossible to live adult life from the same perspective, it’s still a compelling and invigorating one that cuts through my busy thoughts and reminds me to remember the little things. And for that I smile.

Sage Mama

Two things first.

Fellow bloggers are likely to know of Christine’s inspiring journey to Mozambique with Save the Children ahead of the global vaccines summit on June 13th in London. In the USA and UK vaccinations are available to children as a matter of course but worldwide, one in five children do not receive vaccinations of any kind. Sign this petition now and urge world leaders to change this.

Next, one of my nearest and dearest friends has become a mommy for the first time and LLC now has new little gal pal! Congratulations and much love to M&J and welcome to the world Baby M!

Reflecting on this new, next generation addition to my old circle of friends, I’m struck with the realization that my own baby is not such a baby baby anymore. If you had seen her charging through the park today, curls flying, gabbering away in her own tongue and descending on a most patient dog flanked by small friends like flies to honey, you would say “aha!,” madam toddler has arrived.

And I embrace it. We’re in a new stage of walking, early talking and constant discovery (well, that’s each stage of this parenting journey, right?); it is exciting, sometimes challenging, always heartening. And here’s the bit about my own self discovery, and thus the title of this post.

I’ve discovered an invaluable tidbit in my life as a mama. Sure, I have crazy days and sure I often make mistakes but one thing I’ve learned to do, been forced to do, is to “tackle the moment” and not always try to be ten steps ahead of the game. For me, this was a true eureka.

Back when pregnant and on early maternity leave I remember walking through Sainsbury’s trying to anticipate LLC’s daily feeding / sleeping pattern....yes, I was doing that and she hadn’t even arrived. Then there was the whole “when will I put LLC down for a nap in her crib” mental digest, prematurely in her first month, and then the “how will I cope with weaning” worries I had about dropping milk feeds and adding solids a couple months shy of our weaning start date.

In each of these instances, I created myself a handy little game plan that when push came to shove and the said event arrived in reality, never played out according to my script. And in the moment, I deal with things, and in the moment, I don’t care about the script. I just seemed to have this nutty inclination to keep writing them. But I’m pleased to say that 16 months in, LLC has helped me put this tendency to bed (most of the time).

So other mothers out there, if you too share these tendencies, my advice is to go with the flow, stick to dealing with the here and now and don’t over-think! You will share stories and gather learning as you go, you will adjust and adapt to your child when the time is right, you will save yourself valuable head space.
Clearly I am an often clueless, regularly making mistakes, always learning mama. But in this realisation of myself, I am a Sage Mama. Hear me roooaaar!