When it comes to The Poo, I am, like most mothers, blind.
Of course I see her beauty and her spark, but I also see where she lags behind, how other kids do X, Y and Z and she doesn’t - she won’t eat vegetables, pee on the potty, dress herself. While in my secret heart I know she is exceptional in many ways, my first instinct is to fix what I perceive to be broken.
To do better by her; to arm her with every skill well before she needs it. We memorize numbers. We learn our letters. I taught her the colors at 18 months.
Why is it that others have such clarity when looking at her?
Last week, we attended a birthday party for one of The Poo’s wee preschool classmates. Held at a wonderful indoor playground, the kids were much like molecules, bouncing around each other, sometimes touching and setting off reactions, sometimes spinning alone in space.
The Poo has become especially adventurous lately, scaling previously “scary” ladders and whooshing down giant slides that were once intimidating without my arms around her.
I stood chatting with the mother of a boy new to The Poo’s class this semester, a small, shy child with the disposition of an angel. In the middle of a sentence I caught sight of my daughter grabbing the monkey bars.
“Careful, girlie!” I called.
“We never have to say that,” the mom said, smiling. “She is so fearless!” The woman went on to describe my daughter in glowing terms, telling me how she welcomed her son into the class, all concern and caring.
“She worked really hard to integrate him into the group,” she said. “She was such a wonderful little emissary.”
Not much later, we said goodbye to the birthday girl. The child’s mother thanked us for coming, and shared yet another secret with me about my girl.
“She has been so wonderful with Miriam,” the mom said. “She’s really helped her to be less shy.”
All of this comes as a surprise to me. I no longer work in the classroom, choosing instead to pay a premium for the privilege of having six hours a week in which to write, unfettered. What happens when The Poo interacts with children is a mystery to me, something that happens when I am locked away in a room deep inside my head.
Then, Saturday, more praise. The Poo’s childless step-uncle, generally as observant as a 14-year-old boy, marveled at how grown-up my child sounds when she speaks.
“Her voice is so clear, so distinct,” he said, shaking his head. “Not like other kids, even ones that are older. Kids mumble, she doesn’t. You can understand everything. She sounds like a movie star. You know, like Shirley Temple or something.”
I murmured thanks, and busied myself cleaning up the remnants of a buffet lunch. Just then, The Poo bounded into the room, her older step-cousins in hot pursuit.
Her perfect giggle bounced roundly off the walls as she was captured and released, over and over again. Off she went with the others, back upstairs to engage in play far away from the grown-ups.
As she left, she took all the light in the room with her.
*****
Inspired by the Parent Bloggers Network blog blast sponsored by Jennifer Fox, author of Your Child’s Strengths. Feel like telling the world how great your kid is? Write about it, link to PBN, and win some great prizes. Look for my review of the book over at The Full Mommy on March 11.
February 29th, 2008 at 1:36 pm
Aw that was so sweet and so true. We worry over what our children can’t do, how they’re behind in certain areas and then someone will point out something we didn’t even notice and I fill with pride. I think we’re so critical cos they’re ours and we want them to be the best they can be.
She sounds like a sweetheart.
February 29th, 2008 at 2:28 pm
Isn’t that the best way to receive a compliment about your child? When it’s unexpected, and when it’s an aspect that you weren’t aware of…
February 29th, 2008 at 3:02 pm
[...] She’s Got a Way About Her [...]
February 29th, 2008 at 4:43 pm
Of course I see her beauty and her spark, but I also see where she lags behind, how other kids do X, Y and Z and she doesn’t
Lawd, don’t I know this! I lived it for a few years.
Great post!
February 29th, 2008 at 6:24 pm
She is an amazing little girl.
February 29th, 2008 at 6:57 pm
oh that last line totally killed me.
February 29th, 2008 at 8:17 pm
I love that pic!
There is something amazing about seeing your kids through another parent’s eyes. It’s made me try to offer encouragement to other moms (especially the moms of the “bad” kids)as often as I can.
February 29th, 2008 at 8:31 pm
You are a very special writer.
I know her so much better now, with so few phrases.
Well done, Mrs. Chicken. Very well done.
February 29th, 2008 at 9:18 pm
The Poo is one specail little girl! It’s always nice to hear kind words about our child and a surprise when someone tells us something we don’t get to see for ourselves:)
February 29th, 2008 at 9:33 pm
What a sweet, sweet girl.
February 29th, 2008 at 9:58 pm
Looking forward to seeing you and your cutie pie.
March 1st, 2008 at 10:07 am
“….Of course I see her beauty and her spark, but I also see where she lags behind, how other kids do X, Y and Z and she doesn’t….”
Oh, how often I have said those very words in relation to my Little Imp. And like you, I have so many hours a week to myself, when the Little Imp is at school and it never fails, when I pick her up I hear the most glowing things about her and it really goes a long ways towards calming my fears about all the things she ISN’T doing and making me rejoice at all the wonderful things I don’t often see, that she IS doing.
In time, much like Poo, the Little Imp will use the potty and sleep in a big girl bed. But after reading your post and reflecting on the Little Imp’s own strength’s, it’s really not such a big deal.
As usual mama, wonderful post!
March 1st, 2008 at 1:03 pm
Mmmmm, don’t know what it is…
(Your title’s got me singing in my head. I had an ex from way back when –I was about 18– who used to sing this song to me and it never fails to make me smile and feel a little bit better about myself. Much, I imagine, like this post will make the Poo feel when she is old enough to read it and appreciate it. It’s amazing how hearing the positive about yourself - or about your child - can give you that boost when you’re feeling glum and only seeing the negative.)
Beautiful, beautiful post.
March 1st, 2008 at 10:11 pm
She just glows, your sweet girl.
March 3rd, 2008 at 6:42 pm
Loved that one.