Seeing what is right in front of you
I have discovered that in the middle of parenting a child, I am saying things that really I need to hear myself much of the time. Parenting can be a refining process like that. My children teach me things, and this is especially true of my children who have been hurt. Today was one of those times.
Five of the younger half have been building with Legos pretty much non-stop the last few days. This is nothing new for K., who builds pretty much constantly, but the others run hot and cold. K. at this point is pretty much a master builder. He is working on creating out of Lego every Star Wars vehicle he can find a picture of. It is pretty extraordinary, and even M., who has some mad building skills, admits to not being able to match K.'s Lego skills. You need to know this for the rest of the story.
This afternoon, I had to spend some time with R. on my lap because I had made her angry by saying she couldn't sweep. (Yes, you read that correctly.) When R. gets angry, she takes it out on anyone but the person she is angry with (which is usually me). So she spent some time trying to irritate a dog, which we stopped by me picking her up and holding her on my lap. This was fine until I had to take TM to work. K. has recently become the target of R's negative emotions, for reasons we cannot begin to fathom. He had some of his Lego creations on the table, so I suggested he put them in his room in case R.'s irritation headed towards a more destructive mode. He did so, and I asked M. to keep an eye on things while I went to drive around.
I come back from driving TM and have ten minutes before I need to leave again with K. to take him to youth group. I am informed that he was going to his room when he saw H. dash out of it. For various reasons, she is not allowed to be in other people's rooms uninvited, so I go up to have a little chat with her.
Having a chat of this sort with H. requires some finesse. Direct questions will shut her down and trigger her latent skills of disassociation. Actually, just about anything that appears to have the potential to have a negative outcome will do this. The trick is to slide the conversation you want to have in a little sideways instead of coming at the matter directly. After seven years, I'm pretty adept at this.
It turns out she was upset about a couple of things. (And when she is upset, like her sister, it tends to come out in vaguely destructive ways. K. has been very understanding about having to rebuild any number of creations.) The first was that she cannot build things like K. can. (Probably this is actually a much deeper issue of watching her younger siblings pass her in abilities, but I didn't feel up to that conversation in the ten minutes before I had to get back in the car. I'm not perfect.) My response was that no one in the house can build things like K. He has surpassed us all.
Her second complaint was that K. had used a couple of "her" Legos in one of his creations. This might be a valid concern if each child had their own Lego stash which was carefully kept separate. But the Legos around here are all stored together inside a large trunk... including the ones she was feeling put out about. She sits there quietly stewing about the unfairness of K. getting to use those Legos, continuing on that he put them in his room and they would be there forever. (Yes, the word forever was used.)
I had to explain that I had told K. to put them in his room for safety, and also pointed out that it is the rare creation that stays intact for more than a few days before it is dismantled to be made into something else. I asked if he had glued them together, which she was able to admit he had not.
Now, while all this is going on, weeping and complaining about a handful of Legos, she is sitting in front of the trunk which is filled with probably 600 Legos just waiting to be played with. (That's probably a conservative number.) We talked a bit about how she was choosing to sit and stew about the few things she couldn't have when right next to her were literally hundreds of things she could have.
And in my head I was telling myself that I do the very same thing all the time. How often do I look at something someone else has and moan to myself about what I do not have, all the while, sitting right there in front of me, are literally hundreds of blessings? I am embarrassed about how often this happens.
So, the next time you find yourself focusing on what you do not currently have, think about the Legos, and start to notice the good things around you. Because, I can tell you, H. was not having a very good time stewing about those few Lego pieces, when all the while she could have been happily building something cool with the hundreds she did have.
But, why, oh why, is it always Legos?
Five of the younger half have been building with Legos pretty much non-stop the last few days. This is nothing new for K., who builds pretty much constantly, but the others run hot and cold. K. at this point is pretty much a master builder. He is working on creating out of Lego every Star Wars vehicle he can find a picture of. It is pretty extraordinary, and even M., who has some mad building skills, admits to not being able to match K.'s Lego skills. You need to know this for the rest of the story.
This afternoon, I had to spend some time with R. on my lap because I had made her angry by saying she couldn't sweep. (Yes, you read that correctly.) When R. gets angry, she takes it out on anyone but the person she is angry with (which is usually me). So she spent some time trying to irritate a dog, which we stopped by me picking her up and holding her on my lap. This was fine until I had to take TM to work. K. has recently become the target of R's negative emotions, for reasons we cannot begin to fathom. He had some of his Lego creations on the table, so I suggested he put them in his room in case R.'s irritation headed towards a more destructive mode. He did so, and I asked M. to keep an eye on things while I went to drive around.
I come back from driving TM and have ten minutes before I need to leave again with K. to take him to youth group. I am informed that he was going to his room when he saw H. dash out of it. For various reasons, she is not allowed to be in other people's rooms uninvited, so I go up to have a little chat with her.
Having a chat of this sort with H. requires some finesse. Direct questions will shut her down and trigger her latent skills of disassociation. Actually, just about anything that appears to have the potential to have a negative outcome will do this. The trick is to slide the conversation you want to have in a little sideways instead of coming at the matter directly. After seven years, I'm pretty adept at this.
It turns out she was upset about a couple of things. (And when she is upset, like her sister, it tends to come out in vaguely destructive ways. K. has been very understanding about having to rebuild any number of creations.) The first was that she cannot build things like K. can. (Probably this is actually a much deeper issue of watching her younger siblings pass her in abilities, but I didn't feel up to that conversation in the ten minutes before I had to get back in the car. I'm not perfect.) My response was that no one in the house can build things like K. He has surpassed us all.
Her second complaint was that K. had used a couple of "her" Legos in one of his creations. This might be a valid concern if each child had their own Lego stash which was carefully kept separate. But the Legos around here are all stored together inside a large trunk... including the ones she was feeling put out about. She sits there quietly stewing about the unfairness of K. getting to use those Legos, continuing on that he put them in his room and they would be there forever. (Yes, the word forever was used.)
I had to explain that I had told K. to put them in his room for safety, and also pointed out that it is the rare creation that stays intact for more than a few days before it is dismantled to be made into something else. I asked if he had glued them together, which she was able to admit he had not.
Now, while all this is going on, weeping and complaining about a handful of Legos, she is sitting in front of the trunk which is filled with probably 600 Legos just waiting to be played with. (That's probably a conservative number.) We talked a bit about how she was choosing to sit and stew about the few things she couldn't have when right next to her were literally hundreds of things she could have.
And in my head I was telling myself that I do the very same thing all the time. How often do I look at something someone else has and moan to myself about what I do not have, all the while, sitting right there in front of me, are literally hundreds of blessings? I am embarrassed about how often this happens.
So, the next time you find yourself focusing on what you do not currently have, think about the Legos, and start to notice the good things around you. Because, I can tell you, H. was not having a very good time stewing about those few Lego pieces, when all the while she could have been happily building something cool with the hundreds she did have.
But, why, oh why, is it always Legos?
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