That magical triumphant moment when your child discovers something new and accomplishes something they have never accomplished before has a special sacredness today. Bronson announced he would write "Pop" and he wrote "Pop" this morning, intentionally, for the first time,and his faced glowed with pride and glory.
He wrote it backwards, which in this case, resulted in his intended word, and I began to think...
After Newtown, CT. I am painfully aware that mothers in Connecticut will not have those moments with their children. My heart feels heavy with sadness for them. But then I look at my children, playing a game before breakfast, making up new rules, and I am absorbed into their world.
"Okay Ben, make up the rules," Bodee says.
"Okay. First you have to get past the monsters. Then you have to cross over the bridge of trolls otherwise you fall into the dino slime. And if you land here, you get death by monkeys." Ben says as chief authoritarian.
"And then you have to eat your underwear." Bodee adds with glee.
Bronson cackles,"And the monkey poops on your head!"
They love it. They nibble on their breakfast as they play.
I watch them laugh, make up more new rules, disagree with each other and work it out by agreeing on more gross rules that involve bodily functions.
I have noticed the sadness form my heart has lifted and I have "popped", expanded outside of my bubble...with gratitude.
I get to cherish each moment that my children "Pop" and discover something new. I get to whisper to them how wonderful they are after they lose. I get to smell the tops of their heads when they come in for a hug. I get to kiss soft squishy cheeks and hold their warm little hands. I get to.
I started this blog to share authentically, the breakdowns and breakthroughs I have in parenting and to document the journey. I hope to inspire along the way, a shift from "having" our kids be another thing on the "to do" list...like I "have to" make lunches, I "have to" get them to school, I "have to" wipe his butt...
to I "get to".
I see a shift in parenting that is just there for us all to step into, repeatedly, myself included, a shift from "have to" (which equals being a victim of life) to Opportunity. Pop!
Sometimes people don't want to read about inspiring breakthroughs though. We tell ourselves it's not really true that a person could be that calm or be that happy during chaos. I know I don't always believe it. Plus, it could be just plain boring. There is no drama in "happy happy joy joy" all the time.
But when something horrific like Sandy Hook happens, the pain grabs us, the unbelievable drama (which has us feel really "alive") draws us in, and then something does shift inside us...the fear of loss wakes up gratitude like a hibernating bear.
But like a bears growl, the fear of impending harm grips our hearts and we find ourselves hugging our kids with desperation.
It's not the way I hoped the shift would occur for parents in America, because fear is a reaction and can cause more fear and suppression of self expression.
"Don't talk to boy!", "No you cannot have that Buzz Light Year gun!" or even "Go tell that boy you are sorry!" can all come from fear of something bad happening...
But like Bronson writing "Pop" backwards, perhaps it takes a tragedy to see parenting as an opportunity, to see our children with patience, gratitude and cherish every, (or at least more) moment(s) with them. Perhaps, by looking, we will see things differently, we will "Pop!" and have the same result.
My hope is that the shift in parenting will happen for each of us, continuously, not because of a fear, but because of sheer joy in who they are and in who we get to be as parents. We will let go of the sadness, get down on all fours, play with them on the rug and run around as Superman with them even though we have "a lot of work to do".
What I am taking on is releasing the grip and growl of fear...and hushing the hissing anger that is runs like an under current of electricity towards our government....and channeling that energy to something positive. Causing the POP! for myself. Like Bronson, declaring I am going to do it and then do it.
I get to clean up their stinky socks. I get to listen when they are screaming about unfairness. I get to write to the White House. I get to make dinner and remind them to clean up the table. I get to.
Love to you and yours,
Zen Honeycutt
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