Showing Up

Thom, Lotta, and Zibbi went sledding on Monday, as there was no school in honor of Martin Luther King, Jr.  When they returned home, Lotta's hands were so packed with items, she had no free hands to open the front door.  Later, she discovered she could NOT find the library book she'd read on the car ride.  We all looked everywhere, still it did not turn up.  Then came bedtime when Lotta emerged crying, rediscovering that the book was still, in fact, missing AND it is a library book, so that is the WORST possible book to go missing.  As you know, we try our best to stay on the good side of our librarian friends.  Being extremely tired and READY to watch The Flight Attendant (a show that is similar to not being able to look away from a car wreck, where I constantly keep yelling at the main character to please, for crying out loud, make some GOOD choices.  But, as you can tell, I MUST keep watching.)  So I was less than amused when Lotta emerged despondent that her book was STILL missing.  I suggested maybe another book or maybe just going to bed.  And also, extremely unhelpfully, I suggested that this is the reason why BAGS are such a useful tool in transporting things.  I think the point is, that I was most certainly NOT in the game.  

Maybe a week ago, Lotta, started coughing in bed.  It actually isn't that often that Lotta comes back downstairs after bedtime.  In fact it is rare.  And I thought these thoughts as I raced up the stairs, how these disruptions were so much more frequent a few years ago.  Startled and afraid, she came to the top of the stairs to explain what was happening.  I could tell from her voice that she was scared, so I listened to her carefully as I looked into her frightened eyes.  I calmly gave her suggestions of what she could do to alleviate her discomfort--take a drink of water (the remedy for everything, as I have also mentioned previously), prop her pillows up more.  I told her if it persisted, we would take further steps.  Relieved, we hugged, and she went back to bed.  This moment stuck with me because I think it is so very challenging to show up when our expectations were different than what is happening (see previous paragraph).  I know as a parent, this is what we strive for MORE of, these moments of connection, these moments where somehow, someway we are able to put our own needs to the side and really show up for these little people.  And I think so often we are busy beating ourselves up for the words we didn't say, the times we were impatient, or hungry or tired ourselves.  I thought after that profound moment on the steps, what if I could look more for those moments when I actually was fully available?  Wouldn't that be something to count my "wins" as loudly and as often as I count my "losses"?  I wonder if I would actually be able to show up MORE if I was able to celebrate the times I was the parent I strive to be.