don't take it personal.

a little while ago [yes i’m being modest in saying little while and yes the blog has been dormant but with good reason J]i was so pumped to accompany m and his classmates on a trip to the strawberry farm. which ended up being a trip to the non strawberry farm thanks to global warming and messed up harvest seasons. so with no bushels of strawberries which i’m fairly certain is what we paid for, the farm instead offers a walk around the property where they talk about what IS in harvest – asparagus – and we navigated around mud puddles and mud piles and mud aisles. sounds charming enough right?

 

at 8:45 am we were driving to the school and marcus politely confirms ‘mama you aren’t coming on the bus right? I am going on the bus and you can drive behind the bus.’ note: don’t ever expect a three and three-quarter year old to sugar coat anything. i didn’t make a big deal of it, said sure, while i swallowed slowly and wandered if i was already that embarrassing mom who has to stay in the prius and dares not get out to hug and kiss the kid goodbye at drop off.  

the morning went on like this:

me: ‘m, please don’t jump in the mud.’

m: [ignores me and walks ten feet away with the 5 year old boys]

me: ‘m, did you see that cool [tree/pony/goat/chicken/asaparus stalk/any desperate object i could use to try and connect with him]?’

m: [ignores me and is jumping in the mud with said 5 year old boys]

me: ‘m, i asked you eight times not to jump in the mud’

m:  [still ignoring me. still in mud]

it took about three hours until i reached my limit. i humbly pride myself on not reaching that limit often at all, but this lethal combo of ignore mama/jump in the mud on rinse repeat at the non-strawberry farm was too much.

don’t you know i spent this whole morning with you instead of working? I know you heard me speaking all morning and chose to pretend not to. That isn’t respectful. That isn’t how we treat each other. I may or may not have even said i never want to join him on a school trip again. Yes really.

Of course, we parted ways at the parking lot post-rant because i had been asked not to be seen around or on the school bus. Leaving the non-strawberry farm, i felt my cheeks grow hot and tears roll down my face. I felt so hurt. i called one of my favourite people, who doesn’t even have kids but somehow has all the right words of support when the time calls. after listening to me through my tears + frustration go on about how this isn’t how i’m raising my son to treat anyone, especially his mother ... she quietly paused and said.

i think you need to try not to take his behaviour so personally. he is almost four. he is going to have almost four year old behaviour sometimes. and you need to try not to take it personally.

and THEN. Oprah might as well as showed up and knocked me POW in the face with an AHA moment. Don’t take it personal?

what is MORE personal that our parenting? What could be MORE personal than my relationship with my son, the relationship i invest more in everyday than any other relationship in my life?

but she was right. It wasn’t about me. it was just about an almost-four-year-old boy, growing into his four-year-old self + social circle. It is an awesome concept, not to ‘take it personal’ in parenting. It is one that has changed the range of my ‘limits’ and the sensitivity i treat Marcus’ behaviour with day-to-day. it’s fair to assume my standard sensitivity is also magnified by the one-to-one dynamic in our living room everyday.

since our non-strawberry farm fall-out, things have been smooth sailing with the exception of round house ninja turtle kicks to my face and non-consensual sword fights at seven am. I remind myself on the daily to respect his now-four-year-old needs and continue to support his foundation with a well-pointed moral compass and the occasional bowl of non-organic chips. you know, just until those strawberries are back in season ;)

 

   -kare

xo