As I add almost another decade to my life, and we enter the real live roaring 20's (so stoked), I have been learning that with each passing year, experience brings with it a little more wisdom and humility. I definitely do not have most things figured out. But, taking all 29 years so far of pondering, processing, and navigating through all the yucky milestones along the way I have found peaceful glimmers of self awareness and acceptance. It has taken bullying, loneliness, loss, heartbreak, social mishaps, failure, injustice, insecurity, the list goes on to reach the point that I am at now, and I still lose myself in it from time to time.
Sheltering and stimulating a 4-year-old-brain is like trying to channel the headspace of a martian on a new planet. A martian that you love so very much, and you want none of those heartbreaking experiences listed above to ever happen to, though you know at some time they must, and count it a blessing to be there for those moments when they come. But most having never happened to her, the basic emotions she feels at this point overcome her entire body. The strange functions, habits, and reactions she observes are processed with very limited experience to help comprehend. All we have is constant scientific method at play. Cause and effect. Test, alter slightly, test, repeat. Parenting will always bring me to my knees.
A few months ago I wrote a little sketch about what I imagine it is like to be inside Aria's brain. Some of the details are slightly dated but I thought it would be fun to share within context:
Turn over. *Light* Yawn. Stretch. Eyes open.
Oh look at that! There is a sliver of light in my dark room...Mommy acts like a bear if there aren't three slivers of light yet. Time to wait for an eternity...
Nope. Totally can't. Hungry. I'm going for it.
*opens bedroom door, pitter patter across the hallway, opens Mommy's bedroom door.*
"Good morning, Mommy! Let's go dig up some grub! (Thank you, Stephen, for the never-ending weird surprise phrases she hits me with on the reg. You really say some winners.)"
Mommy rolls over and looks at the clock. It is 6:30 a.m. (Daddy is already up and at em so I really shouldn't be complaining but...I am.) On good days, Mommy hops out of bed which sets the tone for the rest of the day. On bad days Mommy asks Aria to go back to bed because it is too early to be awake yet. Generally this option results in a 5 minute meltdown during which Mommy's half unconscious blood reaches a sudden boiling point that turns her into a temporary Tasmanian Devil, after which she needs to apologize to her 4 year old, trying desperately to make her understand the ramifications of interrupting a REM cycle. This also sets the tone for the rest of the day.*
*Goes downstairs and eats breakfast.*
(Our mornings together before Leo wakes up are uneventful, pleasant, and peaceful. I have started home-pre-k, and realize that every single job I have ever had has led me to this joy. Homeschooling is my favorite parenting decision we have made to date. More on that later.)
Leo wakes up. Mommy leaves the table to go get him.
*Looks around at various toys that have been thoroughly played with.*
I already know how all of those things work. What is something new I can play with?
*Sees the bathroom door open.*
Mommy forgot to close it. I should wash my hands. But, I shouldn't play too long in the water because if the bathroom floods Mommy gets frustrated.
(Meanwhile, Leo plods down the stairs freshly changed, drinking his bottle.)
Oh look, Leo is awake! "Hi, Leo!"
Where is Mommy? She is upstairs getting clothes for us. "Leo look at the water! Look what happens when you squeeze the soap bottle. It makes bubbles in the water. Look what happens when you cup the water in your hands, Leo! We can make hand bowls. Let's drink the water from our hand bowls. Actually, they are more like cups, because you drink water out of cups. Cereal and soup go in bowls. Sometimes other foods. Hand cups. Cup the water like this, Leo. Why am I wet? Leo is wet too! Oh, look! When you pull this the water fills up the sink! More water to fill our hand cups."
3 minutes have elapsed since entering the bathroom.
*Hears Mommy coming back down the stairs.*
"Oh, here comes Mommy." Oh no. The bathroom is flooded. Is her scale wet? Her scale is wet. the screen is making funny shapes. She is going to be mad. Quick. Say something to her so she doesn't get angry at me. "Mom! I just came in the bathroom to wash my hands and Leo wanted to play in the water!"
And so on.
End Scene.
I have learned that my most valuable skills to be honing are self control and preparation preparation preparation. Must have things to do and a plan for the day every day. During this whacky time where curiosity meets social and spatial awareness, I am constantly reminding myself that she is not malicious or vindictive. She is new. I don't want her to ever lose that love of learning, but DAMN, am I exhausted by the time 7:30 bedtime rolls around. There are times when my patience runs thin, and in those moments I need God more than I ever have. My children have seen real ugliness on days when I do not hold it together. And there are days when Stephen comes home and I totally fall apart from focused and concerted holding it together all day. I agonize over dropping the ball, losing my temper, causing damage beyond repair. But the one thing I never stop reminding Aria and Leo during rough patches is that where there is love there is forgiveness and grace. Love covers a multitude of sins.
In other news, my Leo is finally beginning to speak. I saw a throwback video of Aria at Thanksgiving. (Aria is 2 years and one month older than Leo, so I find myself looking at all of the social media recaps from 2 years ago and checking out what milestones she had reached around this time.) She was telling jokes, being sassy, talking in soliloquies. Meanwhile, we got very excited recently while watching Frozen when Leo pointed to the screen and said "Iiiiiiceee." Then, it felt like a matter of one week after that something clicked for him and he suddenly started repeating everything he heard with confidence. It reminded me of my brother, who also had a slow start to speaking, but then accelerated to eloquence. Actually, Leo reminds me of Ian in many ways, right down to the shape of his head. I often call Aria, Kailyn, and Leo, Ian. A funny side effect to being the significantly older sister growing up. For all the time he doesn't spend talking, Leo makes up in snuggles. He is the loviest momma's boy of my dreams and I will never turn down his hugs that he gives out so often and so freely. That said, he has also been toying with his own unique tantrum style. I have never known another child to look at you and furiously blow snot out of his nose in protest.
I have rambled much in this post but it feels good to have some sort of update as we begin the new year. Here is to making more time for writing in 2020. I owe it to the great 20s writers I hold so dear.
