This is my very first blog post ever. I am not going to waste time on an introduction or anything right now, I just want to get my story out and maybe it will help you. I will get all that stuff done later. I have been putting this off for too long. So here goes.
I guess it will be helpful to know that I have two adorable children and one incredible husband. I learn so much from them and I feel like I should share what I learn. This first story is about my little boy. It’s a few months old, but this was one of those moments in time that changed forever forward. And. I’m going to use their names instead of nicknames, because, well, that’s what I call them. My son is Ryan, my daughter is Katelyn. Please protect them. If you have any ill intent, leave now. Thanks. :)
Ok, getting on with it. Last summer, Katelyn was about 5 or 6 weeks old is all. (which means Ryan was 16 months.) I had been nursing her and had just laid her down for her nap. I had noticed that Ryan had been quiet for a few too many minutes.
Now, if you knew my son, you would know that a LOT can happen in just a few minutes. He is what Carol Tuttle classifies as a Type 3 Determined Child. (I highly recommend her and her books.) He is ALWAYS moving and exploring and climbing and going and doing ANYthing he puts his mind to. So, a few minutes of silence is often cause for...if not alarm, at least a check-on to see what’s going on. I never really know what I might find.
So I quietly walked down the hall and found him in the bathroom. He was standing on the side of the bathtub which made me smile, but then he looked up at me and to my terror, had my mascara ALL over his face! I didn’t stop to see that he smiled at me with pride at what he had done. He pointed to his eyes, “Eyes!” he said happily. I gasped and ran to him. I didn’t stop to think that he was doing exactly what he had seen me do every morning. I didn’t acknowledge what he had accomplished. All I saw was a mess. All I saw was that he was in my stuff--again! MY stuff. All I saw was that, despite my efforts to stop him, he had “gone behind my back” to do exactly what I had told him not to several times. I yanked the mascara from his hand and shouted “No! Ryan, No! That’s bad!” (Even writing this is still kind of hard to admit and remember! And this is why I must get it out!)
I saw the look on his face immediately. He was terrified that I would shout at him. Confused at my anger and hurt by my reaction to his amazing accomplishment. Instantly he burst into full on tears. It was like somebody had sprayed him with a water gun. He gave me one last tear-my-heart-out look that told me I had just done the same to him before he ran out of the bathroom. He ran into my bedroom and cried and cried. It had all happened so fast! I couldn’t believe what I had just done! I ran after to apologize, to make it right. I realized what I had done. I tried to make it better by taking a picture, you know, “something to laugh at later.” But he just kept crying. (I eventually deleted the photo because it hurt too much to look at.) I couldn’t console him. I felt so foolish. How was I so blind? My heart ached. I remembered how it felt when anybody even raised their voice at me--I was quite a sensitive little girl. Finally, he let me hold him close. I prayed and cherished the embrace. I pulled the mascara from behind my back. I had still held it, not wanting him to “ruin my stuff.” But now, my pride was gone. Nothing, especially a stupid tube of mascara was worth hurting my little baby boy over. I let him hold it. Again, he pointed to his eyes, “Eyes.” I asked him if he was proud of himself for all that he had done. He was. And now I could see it too. I mean, to get to it, he had to climb up onto the toilet, onto the counter, look thru my box, find the mascara, get all the way back down, open the tube, and even get it up near his eyes. Although it was all over his face, he had definitely succeeded in covering his long lashes.
I asked his forgiveness, which he freely gave. He buried his messy face into my shoulder. We went outside to change to mood. He loves outside. I didn’t care that he was wearing only a diaper and socks. I didn’t care that his hair was unruly. And I didn’t care that I hadn’t washed his face from all the mascara. Or that new neighbors were moving in. It did cross my mind that it must look silly, but it didn’t matter. I only cared that he was happy. My tiny little boy. He is so innocent and precious. That night I prayed a long time. I replayed the entire situation. Only this time, I asked my Savior to come and be with us as it happened. I asked for Ryan’s protection against my anger for just a moment so that I could learn this valuable, vital lesson. I asked forgiveness and gave sincere thanks for the Atonement that covers mistakes like this and gave thanks for what I learned. I committed to do better next time. And this has honestly made such a difference in my life. It has changed the way I interact with my son and my daughter and everybody around me.
I guess it will be helpful to know that I have two adorable children and one incredible husband. I learn so much from them and I feel like I should share what I learn. This first story is about my little boy. It’s a few months old, but this was one of those moments in time that changed forever forward. And. I’m going to use their names instead of nicknames, because, well, that’s what I call them. My son is Ryan, my daughter is Katelyn. Please protect them. If you have any ill intent, leave now. Thanks. :)
Ok, getting on with it. Last summer, Katelyn was about 5 or 6 weeks old is all. (which means Ryan was 16 months.) I had been nursing her and had just laid her down for her nap. I had noticed that Ryan had been quiet for a few too many minutes.
Now, if you knew my son, you would know that a LOT can happen in just a few minutes. He is what Carol Tuttle classifies as a Type 3 Determined Child. (I highly recommend her and her books.) He is ALWAYS moving and exploring and climbing and going and doing ANYthing he puts his mind to. So, a few minutes of silence is often cause for...if not alarm, at least a check-on to see what’s going on. I never really know what I might find.
So I quietly walked down the hall and found him in the bathroom. He was standing on the side of the bathtub which made me smile, but then he looked up at me and to my terror, had my mascara ALL over his face! I didn’t stop to see that he smiled at me with pride at what he had done. He pointed to his eyes, “Eyes!” he said happily. I gasped and ran to him. I didn’t stop to think that he was doing exactly what he had seen me do every morning. I didn’t acknowledge what he had accomplished. All I saw was a mess. All I saw was that he was in my stuff--again! MY stuff. All I saw was that, despite my efforts to stop him, he had “gone behind my back” to do exactly what I had told him not to several times. I yanked the mascara from his hand and shouted “No! Ryan, No! That’s bad!” (Even writing this is still kind of hard to admit and remember! And this is why I must get it out!)
I saw the look on his face immediately. He was terrified that I would shout at him. Confused at my anger and hurt by my reaction to his amazing accomplishment. Instantly he burst into full on tears. It was like somebody had sprayed him with a water gun. He gave me one last tear-my-heart-out look that told me I had just done the same to him before he ran out of the bathroom. He ran into my bedroom and cried and cried. It had all happened so fast! I couldn’t believe what I had just done! I ran after to apologize, to make it right. I realized what I had done. I tried to make it better by taking a picture, you know, “something to laugh at later.” But he just kept crying. (I eventually deleted the photo because it hurt too much to look at.) I couldn’t console him. I felt so foolish. How was I so blind? My heart ached. I remembered how it felt when anybody even raised their voice at me--I was quite a sensitive little girl. Finally, he let me hold him close. I prayed and cherished the embrace. I pulled the mascara from behind my back. I had still held it, not wanting him to “ruin my stuff.” But now, my pride was gone. Nothing, especially a stupid tube of mascara was worth hurting my little baby boy over. I let him hold it. Again, he pointed to his eyes, “Eyes.” I asked him if he was proud of himself for all that he had done. He was. And now I could see it too. I mean, to get to it, he had to climb up onto the toilet, onto the counter, look thru my box, find the mascara, get all the way back down, open the tube, and even get it up near his eyes. Although it was all over his face, he had definitely succeeded in covering his long lashes.
I asked his forgiveness, which he freely gave. He buried his messy face into my shoulder. We went outside to change to mood. He loves outside. I didn’t care that he was wearing only a diaper and socks. I didn’t care that his hair was unruly. And I didn’t care that I hadn’t washed his face from all the mascara. Or that new neighbors were moving in. It did cross my mind that it must look silly, but it didn’t matter. I only cared that he was happy. My tiny little boy. He is so innocent and precious. That night I prayed a long time. I replayed the entire situation. Only this time, I asked my Savior to come and be with us as it happened. I asked for Ryan’s protection against my anger for just a moment so that I could learn this valuable, vital lesson. I asked forgiveness and gave sincere thanks for the Atonement that covers mistakes like this and gave thanks for what I learned. I committed to do better next time. And this has honestly made such a difference in my life. It has changed the way I interact with my son and my daughter and everybody around me.
I know now life has nothing to do with “my stuff” or with my baby “disobeying me”. Obedience has nothing to do with raising children anyway. AND children aren't "bad." It's just not possible for a baby to do something bad. What’s important is to allow them to be who they really are. And to learn from them. Not only to learn about what they need to do, but what I need to do and who I need to become.
The very next day, he hit his sister for the first time. I didn’t even think to gasp and react harshly--yesterday’s experience was still too vivid. I calmly spoke with him and helped him understand his feelings and how to be nice. I was so grateful that I had learned so much the day before with something insignificant like mascara instead of with something so precious as his relationship with his sister. God really is gracious like that! Later, when I saw the diaper cream all over both his hands and mouth and all over the couch, I didn’t get mad. I had him help me clean it up. When he pushed a chair over to the counter, got up and into the cupboard, got down the bread, dumped it out on the floor and took a bite out of every piece, I could see how amazing this little boy is. I see his determination. I see his diligence. He is so smart. So incredible. So childlike. So perfect. And I am allowing him to do his Divine job--teaching me.
I have to admit. Sometimes I allow supervised makeup play. He does a lot less damage when I'm there. And I know all he wants to do is play and explore and figure things out. Don't judge when you see my boy with eye shadow and mascara. I'm sure he'll grow out of it. After all, he's just barely figuring out that he's a "BOY!"
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