Remind me of this when I forget...
Back when my children were toddlers and we were busy creating & discovering, it was a lesson in patience and child development for me. I worked at my children's Montessori style preschool. I spent long hours discussing life and children with our teacher who became my friend. With her knowing smile----gleaned from years of teaching and raising two daughters herself----she would remind me of children's stages of development and emotional needs. When I felt ready to burst with frustration from some of the things my children did (like pouring out ALL the homemade bubbles onto the grass to feel its texture only to cry in dismay when they were gone, or ripping out all the pages of a precious picture book) she patiently smiled and somehow explained things in a way that made me relax. Made me understand. My values and needs were not the same as my children's and I had to determine what mattered to me in relation to what mattered to them. A fine balance. I still felt frustrated but at least there seemed to be a purpose in it all.
Secretly, however, I longed for the days when my children would be more interested in creating something with me. Of building something rather than tearing it apart. Of developing their fine motor skills to the point of drawing, sewing, building.
But like so much else in child development, this doesn't happen overnight. It's not that children are ripping apart beautiful picture books one day and then creating them the next. Because of this, I tend not to notice the subtle changes---how quickly my kids have grown. I tend to go with the flow until something sparks my attention.
It was this: a felting needle. As I pulled the needles out of their package, my safety and school employee brain thought, 'Wow, those could be dangerous,' and I soon noticed the boldly imprinted caution sign. And it hit me. Though my children will be supervised while using these needles, they are old enough to use them. They are old enough to do many of the crafts and projects I always wished we could. And suddenly, I felt a rush of recognition, of nostalgia, of understanding how quickly time has lapsed since those days at the preschool and in the midst of everything else going on in my life right now, I could easily let their growth go unnoticed.
What I've heard other parents say is true for me, too, that every age is their favorite. Some of those stages had their moments of frustration but they all had their perks, too.
I'm nearing the years that many parents find so difficult, the dreaded teenage years. But I also remember talking to a teacher once about her 15 year old daughter. She was experiencing the usual adolescent induced difficulties but she also made a point of telling me what she enjoyed about her daughter's new maturity level, the fun things they experienced together. Things like trips to the gym together, little bits of time when her daughter spoke from her heart, unguarded. She was truly a burgeoning young woman and this teacher loved to be there to witness it. I remember feeling struck by this discussion----remember taking note that I must stop and recognize the good amongst the difficult. I'm not always good at doing that.
So, I feel as if I need to tie a ribbon on my finger and remember the parenting milestones---how far we've all come. Time marches on with or without us and there is no room for distraction.
{We tried needle felting for the first time. Though our "mushrooms" are not miraculous, the time we spent together was just that. Oh, and the only person to stab themself with a needle was me!}
