11/28/14
I was going to write tonight about how “I Wanna Be a Foot
Model,” but something happened a couple of hours ago that feels far more “timely”
and helpful for today’s NOW moment.
Tre is having a sleepover tonight, and he was starting to
get a bit surly and show-offy. In
hindsight I can understand: he is proud of the relationship we have together,
and my efforts to try and share power with him.
Yesterday, though, I had had nearly all that I could take without getting
really ugly in front of “Friend,” which I was not yet prepared to do.
I wrote earlier in the year about the idea of power. Power over, power shared, personal power. It is always a very timely topic and recently,
I had the very sticky, uncomfortable experience that comes with having an interaction
with a person who chose to abuse her power over me. But - that’s another blog.
Children have power.
Lots of it. Obviously, there is
the power that a baby and small child have over their caregivers, compelling
the parent to care-give (feel, clothe, cuddle, nurture). Children also have a ton of creative power. In her book “Living with a Wild God,“ Barbara
Ehrenreich writes this about her about her own children:
“…They were not notably human when they first appeared, more
like fuzzy, pale nocturnal animals, lemurs perhaps, without language or loyalties,
habits or traditions, entirely devoted to eating and processing raw sensory
data as it came to them. I saw my
opportunity at once, which was not to extend any biology self through some sort
of dynamic imperialism, but to … rebuild the world for myself, only this time
with a couple of brilliant and highly creative collaborators.”
Adults have power too.
We have power OVER our children.
We can physically hurt - even kill them, and we can also abuse them with our
words. Imagine having an argument with
an 8 year old child. No matter how
advanced a child’s vocabulary, it’s just not a fair fight folks.
So tonight, the child was cutting up in front of Friend, and
I exited stage left to go take care of the laundry before blowing a gasket and
ruining the play date /overnighter.
Outside, fuming at his behavior and how I was going to handle it in a
way that allowed all of us to keep our dignity in tact (including Friend), I began
mentally preparing myself for how far I was willing to go – empty threats are
the devil’s handiwork. First on my list:
Friend goes home, playdate/overnighter over.
Game over. I am ready to go there
and all prepared to lay into him, when he steps out on the porch, looks at me,
knows what’s up, and says:
“I know mom – I have been acting VERY badly!”
My heart melts right there, in a puddle in front of the
child. Suddenly, he and I are secret allies
in all of this! We both want the same thing.
Me: I know, dude!
What’s going on in there?
He: I don’t know. I
just, just – (I can see he doesn’t
has the vocabulary to express why he is compelled to flaunt his power in front of Friend)
Me: I know. Listen. This is why I pulled you out here. I don’t want to embarrass you around
Friend. So Please – turn it around. Stat!
He: Right. OK.
Then we hugged it out.
It was a great night.
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