Be Careful

This morning the boys and I walked down to the park to meet up with my friend Lauren and her daughter Brooke, toy cars and a bag to collect rocks and leaves in tow. We've had the most beautiful weather lately, those kind of days that start out really cold but then slowly, slowly warm up ever so gently as noon rolls around; the kind where you begin the day bundled up but by afternoon you're in a t-shirt and jeans. Pretty perfect.

And today we walked down to the park in this gorgeous weather, and ran into another friend and her boys. I always find it fascinating to watch Henry interact with other kids, and even more fascinating to hear a lot of the things I say to him come out of his mouth. One of the boys had a toy car Henry so badly wanted to play with and I was curious how he would handle the situation with an unfamiliar playmate- we work on sharing all day, everyday, but with each other and our familiar friends, like Max and Brinley- not always with people we don't know. So I stood back and watched. I heard him say so politely, "hi, may I have a turn? I'd really like to try out your toy." And this very sentence just so happens to be what I say to him when we're playing, almost verbatim. It was wild to realize that yes, this parenting thing is working, and also crazy to think about how much he is taking in, even when I don't always notice.

So the morning went on and the kids kept playing, and soon the boys ventured away from the climbing equipment and onto the hiking trail that's directly behind the larger playground. My first instinct was to tell Henry not to go (what if there were snakes in the grass! or sharp, thorny bushes! or...something!) but I held back my immediate urge to yell "Henny, be CAREFUL!" and instead thought about my own childhood. I grew up in the forest, trees on all sides, deep, deep woods for acres and acres. My sister and I would spend hours exploring- turning over rocks, collecting leaves and acorns, digging in the dirt and taking the trails behind our home when we got a bit older. I remember so much of that, and I remember feeling safe and protected. But what I don't remember is my Mom yelling, "Danielle! Be CAREFUL!" every two minutes, or anytime she may have felt like we could get dirty or hurt.

Parenting, in a nutshell, is letting go of your child a little more everyday. It's growing together while growing apart, and giving them enough room to become who they will be. I'm learning this. And although it's hard for me to embrace my laid-back side, the side that doesn't mind when Henry jumps into a mud puddle with his "good" shoes on, or wants to venture into uncharted territory without holding my hand, I'm realizing that all of this is important in Henry's growth. Outside of normal situations that are just plain unsafe, he needs to be free to explore and learn and figure out things on his own. At almost three my baby boy is truly turning into his own person, and the only way he will ever fully become that person is for me to let go of my own tendencies to hold on maybe a little too tight.

So today when I held back my "be careful" and instead watched Henry run through the fields of thorny bushes and yellow flowers, I got to see my little boy grow a little older and gain a little more confidence. And guess what? He was careful, without me even saying a word. And when playtime was over and it was time to pack up and walk home, my wild-child dug a half-crushed flower out of the pocket of his gray jeans and said, "for you, Mommy."

This parenting stuff is tricky, but I'm learning a little more everyday, right alongside Henry and Charlie. And this yellow flower is sitting here on my desk, to remind me that it's okay to let kids be kids. I don't have to control every moment, hold Henry back because of my own fears. We work on building him up, and everyday we need to teach him to fly, little by little, until one day, he can do it all on his own.

Sunday Focus

Today we took Henry to his first movie, which I'll talk about more tomorrow, but after the film as the three of us were driving home, Hank and I asked Henry which part he loved best- which parts made him happy. Without skipping a beat, Henry told us about the parts he didn't like- he mentioned the scariest scene of all, talked a bit about one part where two characters were fighting, and discussed how upset he was with one of the villains. We listened as he went on and on, and after he was finished we talked to him for a moment about yes, how great it is to recognize when we don't like something, but how important it also is to focus on the good parts of things and remember those.

Once we got home and put him down for a nap (after listing all of our most favorite parts of the movie!), I realized that I should be taking my own advice. Sometimes I get caught up focusing on tiny bits of negativity from this person or that person, worrying unnecessarily about situations I can't change, filling up my mental space with things that just aren't productive. And sure, recognizing what we don't like is absolutely worthwhile, but how about focusing on all of the good? How about setting our sights on all of the amazing things going on right now and taking stock of all of the happy bits that often go unnoticed?

It's still so funny how much this little boy teaches me. Before I became a Mom I always thought it would be my most important teaching role yet, but I've come to really understand that my role as a student is just as meaningful.

Teacher.

In all of my schooling, all of the places I've been, it's astounding to me that my greatest teacher of all would be a 2-year old by the name of Henry.

He's been teaching me things before he was even here- during those 9 months of pregnancy, and when he was just a possibility and an idea.

It's crazy to me what I've learned over the past three years, all of things I found out about myself, all of the contradictions and truths and clarity.

Henry's taught me that I am enough. Just me. In my pajamas, playing on the floor, no makeup and no fancy clothes.

That we don't need the newest things, the shiniest toys- all we need is a cardboard box and some wooden trains to run along our makeshift track, and we're set.

He is a constant reminder to be present and in the now. I only get so long with this little guy being so little (as I'm reminded every morning when he magically seems bigger than the night before), and I want to be there for every second- not wasting it away worrying about inconsequential things or on my phone or computer.

He keeps me in check. Last week Hank, Henry and I were driving and Hank and I were having a discussion. There must have been a tone to our voices because from the backseat Henry said, "Be nice guys!" We just about died laughing but it reminded us that there is always someone listening and learning.

Henry reminds me to slow down, to appreciate the small things, and to laugh often. To take a minute and notice the ducks on the pond, to wave to the big semi driving past, and to always make time for a snack break.

He's taught me that I am his greatest example. The other day he was playing to with his trucks and he was "putting them to sleep." I heard him say "oh, you are a good truck and I love you so much" in his toddler speak. He kissed them and tucked his little blue truck in, and I realized that he is taking in all of this love we give him and it's become a part of his everyday. And it reminded me of that quote- "how we speak to our children becomes the voice in their head."

It's amazing to think that this little love is only two years old. I feel like he is wise beyond his years and understands so much more than he is even able to tell us. I'm lucky to have been given the privilege of being Henry's mama, and I can only imagine all the fun (and learning!) that's in store.