It's magic.
When I wrote about the goings on inside of my head at the Mother's Day tea, I knew that some would relate and some would think it was silly, but I am always shocked by how much I learn. Our different perspectives are delightful; they both affirm for me that we all live inside our heads a bit and challenge me to have a broader perspective. I love Anna See's comment about seeing things "through the window of our insecurities" and I love that all of the comments highlighted that while our worries might be different, our desires for our children are often the same. I love that because of Varda the next time one of my kids calls me Stacey, I'll smile and say, "you know, anyone can call me Stacey, but only four special people in the whole world get to call me mommy."
I worry, especially when you are easy with your praise on how I handled a situation, that I am not clear enough that of course I write about moments that made me pause, that I took seriously and thoughtfully. Nine out of ten times, I am neither serious nor thoughtful. I am in a hurry and I stampede over small moments yelling something obnoxious like "GREAT, GET YOUR BUCKLES ON RIGHT NOW AND PLEASE DO NOT PICK YOUR NOSE, IT'S GROSS!" You know that right?
(Also, for the record, while we are talking about the Mother's Day post. I do have more than one pair of shoes. Admittedly, most of them never leave my closet, except for the flip flops. And the snow boots.)
What I love the most is that we have built between us, here and on your blogs and through email and even in person, something that I treasure - broad, open discussion about parenthood and life without personal attacks.
And some people don't get it. I know, the conventional wisdom is to ignore. Give no attention, no fodder, don't let them smell your fear. Let the bile fade away. But, shit. Sometimes, I'm not afraid. Sometimes, I just have something to say about it, you know? Even though the lovely outweighs the vile by 100,000 tons or more.
Here are some excerpts from a recent comment by Brenda.
"I stopped reading your blog because I got tired of the whining about your relationship with your daughter. I accidentally clicked on (need to delete you from my bookmark)." (sic)
You say "whining" I say, "deeply discussing." Difference of opinion, I suppose. I write here about things that cross my mind because I enjoy talking about these issues with other adults, understanding how they process the same emotions and connecting with people who have felt, even for a second, like I do. I can see how micro-analyzing thoughts and emotions and experiences could be boring or seem whiny to some, so there you go. You have to right click on the bookmark to delete it, Brenda, it's not that hard. Did you accidentally click on comment too? Did you accidentally start typing? I accidentally hit my horn and called someone an asshole yesterday. I still feel kind of bad about it.
Brenda goes on: "One question...why do you always dress your daughter as a clown? You and your sons are always dressed in such conservative, muted colors, yet you put her in overly bright and patterned outfits. And way too many plaits on her head with all that awful plastic crap thrown in for good measure."
Let's get this out of the way. Yes, Brenda, this hurt my feelings. Fleetingly, perhaps, but it did. So, if that was your goal, brava, my dear, you win. Since you "asked," she likes color and so do I. She is certainly not out of the ordinary, color palette wise, with other girls her age, except perhaps for my complete refusal to recognize pink, sparkly tutus as acceptable Kindergarten attire. Only because they rip, mind you, and I'm tired of buying them. As for her hair, well, two lovely little girls in her class - undoubtedly raised by women with ideas similar to yours on criticizing others - mocked her whenever we left it natural or even partially unbraided because it is "poofy." Due in large part to that experience, she prefers braids and beads and she wears them very much in line with other African American children with her hair type.
The thing that's funny is that I don't mind heated discussion. I don't mind disagreement. I don't even mind criticism, though I prefer that it's constructive. But cruelty doesn't inspire anyone to listen or to change. Cruelty is just ... cruel.
Sigh. Oh Brenda, you don't even get why your words don't matter, do you?
The other day the kids and I were discussing what Saige might say to the two little girls who are negative about her hair and also what Garrett might say to another child who calls him a nickname he dislikes. We talked - amazingly - about the difference between defending yourself or stating your position and cutting someone else down. My five-year-olds understood the distinction. They understood that saying, "I think my hair is beautiful and I don't like it when you call it puffy and I'm not going to sit by you when you do that" is different - entirely different - from saying, "Oh yeah, well your stringy, blond hair is ugly too."
And that's what matters to me.
What matters to me is that I talk to my children almost every day about kindness. What matters to me is that I am doing my very best to bring up people who would never send such a message to another human being because there are a million ways to express disagreement without being cruel.
I am raising children who won't need to put others down to feel heard, or to have their existence justified or to feel good about themselves. I truly believe, though they will misstep, as do I, that my children are going to be empathetic, thoughtful and kind. Kind young people and kind adults. And I truly believe that it's important.
I told them that someone had been mean to me and hurt my feelings too and that I thought, after we practiced what we might say to people who hurt our feelings or who are unkind on purpose, we should all sing a silly song because everyone feels better when silly songs are involved. And we did.
Brenda, I don't like it when you criticize the way my children look and I won't allow it in my comments. But, I'm sure you're beautiful, in your own way and that you make very appropriate clothes choices at all times. However, if you keep this up, I do have to point out that there's a strong possibility that all you're ever gonna be is mean.
***********Segue! To! Impromptu! Music! Video! ***********
Featuring ... Taylor Swift! And ... My Butt! And all of my children losing their pants!
You may mock the dancing without restraint.
In fact, I think it's a moral imperative.
I will defend my choices in children's clothing to my death, but the world must be saved from my dancing.
I will defend my choices in children's clothing to my death, but the world must be saved from my dancing.
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