1 Mother 2 Another

Last week I read a series of essays (while
lying on the beach, heh heh) entitled Because I Said So, all
written by mothers, on a variety of topics but all in some way tied
to motherhood. A few of the essays resonated with me, particularly
one about a single mom and her thirteen-year-old daughter: as the
mom tried to find her way in the newly-single world, she had to
take a good look at her daughter and figure out a whole new way to
parent, and in the process she asked the question, What is it
that makes a good mother?


“As far as she could ascertain, it seemed to boil down to a
fairly simple set of issues. A lousy mother was someone who looked
at her kid and said, ‘Here’s who I want you to
be’ and ‘Here’s what I’m going to give
you.’ A good mother was the one who looked at her kid, really
looked at her, and asked, ‘Who are you?’ and
‘What do you need from me?’”


I have tried to find a flaw in this – perhaps because
it’s sometimes more effort than I’m willing to put out
– and I cannot. Who are you? What do need from me? I ask
these questions, and my parenting style shifts. Subtly, but
distinctly.

I’ll give you an example.


For one of the highlights of my vacation, we spent the entire
morning at one of my favorite beaches. There are plenty of lava
rocks for exploring tidepools, nice waves for jumping or boogie
boarding, excellent stretches of beach for beachcombing – and
some beautiful, smooth sand for stretching out with a book. I
really adore this beach.


Maddie fell in love with the lava tidepools, poking around and
having a fantastic time. I wandered with her for a while, but
eventually wanted to lie down and just read my book a bit. My book
and my towel were waaaaaaaaaaay back on the other side of the bay,
about a hundred yards away, on the nice smooth sand. In the
tidepool area, there was no smooth stretch for lying down, and no
rocks. In my smooth area, I’d have no way to see Maddie and,
more importantly, no way to get to her in time if a freak wave came
crashing too hard into the rocks. Implausible? Yes. Impossible? No.
And I get Mommy Brain around potential natural disasters. So
leaving Maddie there by herself was a non-option.


Maddie began an elaborate game by herself, involving dropping sand
into one pool, “washing” it, then scooping it and
molding it to a lava shelf. She talked happily and played with a
purpose while I shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, unable to
lie down or even get in the ocean and play. I kept casting glances
back to my nice smooth sand and beckoning book, and started to say,
“Five more minutes, then let’s head back,
Maddie.”


But then I looked at her, really LOOKED at her, and took in what I
saw as I asked myself, “Who are you, and what do you need
from me?” And I saw a girl in desperate need of some creative
play – a girl who goes into these elaborate games by herself
at home as an outlet, almost a way of dreaming while awake so her
brain can do some mental housekeeping while she’s occupied.
I’ve seen Maddie go into these games and come out with truly
thought-provoking questions, and know she needs this time.


So what did she need from me? She needed time to make her damn sand
shelf without my putting limits on her so I could lie down.


I did not tell her “five more minutes”. I asked her to
step back from the waves while I walked back around, grabbed a book
and a towel, marched back, and sat on a rock to read while she
played. For over half an hour. And when she had had enough, she
turned to me with a contented smile and said, “I’m
ready to go back now.”


I consider myself a fairly good mother, all things considered. I
don’t think I’m the mother who is saying
“Here’s who you are” as I hand my soccer-loving
son a violin. But I do admit – sometimes I ignore what my
child needs because I don’t want to deal with it, or
I’m being selfish, or just to busy to really take a look.
Now, I’m not saying that I will always give my girls what
they ask for; “wanting” and “needing” are
two different things, and sometimes the answer to my second
question will be “she needs me to set some boundaries and be
present to enforce them.” Which might involve turning away
from Facebook and not letting her get away with sass or rudeness
just because ignoring her buys me ten more minutes of computer
time.


Who are you, and what do you need from me? I ask myself these
questions as I look at my daughters during the day, and I tell you,
it has clarified my parenting choices. Give it a try, really look
at your kid, and you might be surprised at what you see.