Will this connect me to my child?
Submitted by Brenda Gilbert on Tue, July 14th 2009.
Category: Joyful mothering moment
My 13 month-old daughter joyfully unrolled the toilet paper. I reacted, thinking, “Oh man!” as the pile gathered on the bathroom floor. Then the thought followed, “Will this connect me to my child?” In 20 years of study and experience with children and to the credit of my friend Lyla, nothing has impacted my mothering like that question.
I paused. “Let’s roll it up,” I said playfully. And we did. Now she always rolls it up after collecting whatever data is needed in the toilet paper learning opportunity.
In the park at 14 months, she watched with wide eyes, frozen by the stimulation of the play structure and children zipping around her. “Is there something wrong with her?” I asked myself. Then came the thought, “Will this connect me to my child?” We began to regularly visit the park.
On the swings when her body would tense from the overwhelm of new experience, I’d say, “Look at me.” Her body relaxed as we looked at each other. Within days, she was requesting, “ween” (swing). A feared activity had become a favorite. “Lide” (slide) became her second favorite. We held hands to climb the steps, crawled through the tunnel and slid down side-by-side
At 15 months, she pushed her doll stroller through a narrow space between the furniture and got it stuck. A scream rattled the room. I jumped up from the computer, thinking “Now what?” Then the question, “Will this connect me to my child?” With a glance I could see the problem. Arms extended and ready to help, I said, “Stuck”. She repeated, “Stuck” in a thank-goodness-mom-gets-me tone. “Help mom,” I said as I freed the toy. Off she went without delay.
On an evening trip to the grocery store by stroller, she yelled “Walk” from her harnessed position. “I don’t have time for this!” I thought. Then came the question, “Will this connect me to my child?” Out came my delayed response, “You want to walk?” looking hopeful that she’d misspoken. Her wiggly body doubly affirmed, “Walk!” She held my hand tightly as we walked five sweet blocks. Smelling flowers, petting dogs, picking rocks, practicing being soft with our feet on the nearby plants, and looking both ways for cars before we “run run run” across the street.
When I take the point of view that there is some way to be connected to my child now, it’s usually blissful. Like every evening when she’s just not tired and it’s bedtime. I automatically begin to think of all the things I can work on after she falls asleep. “Please go to sleep baby!”, I yell in my mind. “Will this connect me to my child?” I lie down, close my eyes and soon her warm heart is snuggled up to mine. My eyes appreciate the rest and I’m grateful to be present to the moment.
I’ll carry this question with me into every stage of her life. It’s the closest thing to a guarantee that our relationship will be bursting with love.
