I Don’t Know Anything — Mud and Miracles

About 5 minutes after we walked downstairs this morning at 7am, sh*t hit the fan.

Little “e” grabbed the dress-up shoes while big sister “E” was putting on the dress-up dress and then big E turned around to realize little e had the missing pieces to her ensemble.

E quickly snatched one shoe while little e held a death grip on the other one and screaming ensued from both parties. I was in the kitchen diligently cutting baby carrots into teddy bear shapes for E’s lunch like any good neurotic mother the first week of school and nearly lost a bear ear in the commotion.

For some ungodly reason still unbeknownst to me, I didn’t react to the screaming. I didn’t feel annoyed or bothered or even pressured to make it go away. I just stood there, as if it was fine.

(I know, I know- that’s annoying to read. But don’t worry, I almost always want to scratch all of my skin off when I hear blood curdling screams from my children. I don’t know what happened here).

But something came over me this time and I just casually walked over there.

I casually walked over- with no plan, no intentions, and sat down on the floor where e was sitting and E was standing - both in screaming tears.

I sat down and put my hand on e’s back and just sat quietly for a few minutes. It may have simply been that I was just tired and still slightly braindead since I’ve decreased the amount of coffee I’ve been drinking, but for a solid few minutes I just acted as if I was watching a TV show.

And then I said, “hmmm e had the shoes first and she really wants to wear them. E has the dress on and wants the shoes to complete her outfit. What can we do about this problem?”

(Another honest moment: I used to practice this type of sportscasting and it felt fake. But now it just makes so much sense to me. And whenever I can manage to get here, it almost always works).

I make sure the 3 of us know that it’s US against the problem. Not E against e for the shoes. Not me against E for grabbing. It’s US against the problem.

“You both want the shoes. What can we do about this problem?”

So here I am. Chilling on the floor. I’ve managed not to react. I’m posing this super good respectful parenting question. And now I’m ready for my grand finale. I’m gonna tell them how to make it all better!! Like I need them to know their Mommy is a freaking genius. . .

Adult brains are funny. I actually can only think of TWO possible solutions. I try to come up with something else and can’t.

Its either:

e gets the shoes first and gives them to E when she’s done.
vice versa

Ok I do have a flashback of the angry “OK if you can’t play nicely NO ONE gets the shoes!” option too, but I know that actually won’t teach them anything about working together to solve conflicts.

But I don’t say anything. I ask the question and then I bite my tongue.

(I’m doing it! I’m screaming inside to myself. I’m finally doing it!)

(I’ve read about this - letting kids try to solve their own problems. . .

but that pause is sooooooo long. That trust in two bite sized humans is like, wha???)

But then it happens. Right there in the longest pause of all time in my mouth. And again to my utter dismay-

E stops screaming and simply says “Ok e - you wear that shoe and I’ll wear this one.”

And I’m sitting dumbfounded

and also like “c’mon E that’ll never work” but e replies, weepy, “OK” and then they both just jump up and start dancing together happy as clams, as if nothing had ever happened, wobbling around each with one shoe on.

What?

I mean, it was the most absurd thing I’ve ever witnessed.

And it was great.

And I’ll probably never see that happen again.

BUT

it was such a sweet reminder for me

that I don’t know.

I really just don’t know.

I don’t know what they’re capable of. I don’t know what they really want. I don’t know what their visions are for their play.

I don’t know how to fix everything.

I just don’t.

And that can be SUCH. A. GOOD. THING.

As long as everyone’s safe from harm, give them some space.

Trust them a bit.

See what they come up with.

I don’t need to have the answers.

I’ve been repeating that a lot this week. For my parenting role and just for living life.

I don’t need to have the answers. I don’t need to have the answers.

In practicing that this week, I’ve found that being pleasantly surprised by the responses I get has been much more rewarding than “proving I’m right” or forcing the solutions.

sending love and breath and longer pauses all around . . .

xo xo

.m.

jaime