Like every other woman of a "certain age", I have often taken my own inventory of the things I've done wrong in life. I call them mistakes. I consider something done out of ignorance to be a mistake. It's one of those legal "you knew or should have known" things that what you were doing was wrong.
If I knew what I was doing was wrong, and I did it anyway, it was intentional; therefore, unforgivable. If I should have known, but didn't, that's just ignorance and forgivable. But what if BOTH are false? What if I didn't know. If I didn't know, how is it that I should have? As Maya Angelou once said, "When you know better, you do better."
Every once in awhile, I give myself credit for things I accidentally did right. I had one child. All of my pride, joy, frustration, and fear walked around in that one person. I was a newbie parent, flying blind with help from books and family, as needed. (Okay...so not blind. Just visually impaired.) Through all the years of my daughter's minority, I made a ton of mistakes (although I didn't recognize them at the time), and several after she became an adult (for which I only take SOME responsibility. And no one told me to do the things that I did that were right. Thus, I/we deserve to claim some sense of pride for the good things, whether or not the results actually happened because of me/us!
RIGHT THING #1:
I sang to my child. I sang from the moment she was born until she discovered her own singing voice, which was beautiful. (I sat in the stands at her 2nd grade school's Christmas concert and blubbered at her solo in The Friendly Beasts. In my defense, it was less than a month since my own mother had died quite unexpectedly. I was already an emotional mess. But that clear, lovely voice told me that all was right in the world.) When my daughter was in high school, she breached some tough competition to be included in her school's award-winning show choir, Belles et Beaux. I beamed as a Show Choir Mom.
It wasn't just Megan's talent that I reveled in--it was also her taste in music: eclectic. She appreciated good music, no matter the genre. Thank you. I'll take credit for that. I tried to expose her to all of it, and I think my own enthusiasm encouraged her taste. She never made excuses for it, which is extra special to me. Loving music of every type is freeing!
One of my favorite memories of my daughter as a child was when she was maybe 5 years old. She was taking a bath with my supervision when she asked me to sing Fill It With Glue. I confessed that I didn't know that one, but she was not to be deterred. She got more and more demanding: "SING 'FILL IT WITH GLUE', MOM! SING 'FILL IT WITH GLUE'!" I could not, for the life of me, comprehend what song she wanted to hear. Obviously, it was something I had sung to her before, but what?? It took quite awhile for it to sink in to my thick head. She was referring to the children's song, Let the Sunshine In; to wit:
"Mommy told me something a little girl should know./ It is all about the devil and I've learned to hate him so./ She said he causes trouble if you let him in the room./ He will never, ever leave you if your heart is filled with gloom./ So let the sunshine in./ Face it with a grin./ Smilers never lose,/ And frowners never win...etc."
https://www.considerable.com/entertainment/songs/open-up-your-heart/
Yes! Of course! How could I have been confused!
RIGHT THING #2:
I read to my child. Well...I suppose in the beginning, it wasn't exactly reading. After she got past the infant stage--maybe 8 months or so--it was mostly just showing pictures and saying words. In a waiting room, I would pick up a magazine and point to pictures she could recognize, and say the word for the picture over and over again. And then I bought fabric books...and had a nursery rhyme/fairy tale anthology that we would sing-song. (I didn't care if she didn't understand them because most of the time, I didn't either.) By the time she was a pre-school toddler, we had a healthy collection of Little Golden Books, many of which were favorites from my own childhood. I wasn't making any effort to teach her to read. I was just giving her words and letting her hear proper grammar. (Thank God, that worked! I never had to correct Megan's grammar!)
By the time Megan was in middle school, she was already an avid reader. Many times, she had a book going in her bedroom, another in the bathroom, and a third going in the living room. Before she outgrew them, Megan had a pretty substantial collection of The Baby Sitters series. Those were just pot-boilers, but she began to gravitate toward quality literature. Actually, she put me to shame with her reading habits.
When my grandchildren were born, my daughter and I--and their daddy and his parents--all read to those babies all the time. Both of them grew up with excellent grammar skills and huge vocabularies. I'd been teaching English for many decades by that time, but since my influence was secondary, I could sit back, relax, and watch their developing language skills with utter fascination. I've come to understand that learning language is simply magic, and it starts early. The learning curve in those early years is enormous. I have intelligent grandchildren, but I'm going to take some credit for giving them a healthy start in the language/literature world.
RIGHT THING #3:
I breastfed my child.
PLEASE don't anyone take this as a condemnation of those who can't/don't/won't. I was just in a position to do it in the early months, so I did. Aside from being what the "experts" said was best for babies, I was happy for the convenience. Of course, it is limiting. For it to work, mom has to be where the kid is when the kid gets hungry; but to provide food didn't require a refrigerator or a stove...or sterilized nipples, bottles, etc. I could bring the baby into bed with me, lean on my side, and let her nurse on that side while I dozed and she fell back to sleep. Easy-peasy. Out in public? Find a place to sit, throw a baby blanket lightly over the shoulder on the side to be nursed and no one is the wiser.
Why do I think that experience was "right"? Well....I'll tell you: I don't know! I nursed until Megan was 11 months old. At that point, I'm not sure she was getting much milk from me, nor needing it. When I stopped, my breasts did not engorge in anticipation. Guess that meant it was time to wean. Besides, my child was at the top of the growth charts at the pediatrician's office. Time to move on! (We already had moved to spoon/finger food, but I was still just topping off her tank with a shot or two from Mom before we gave up entirely.)
There is scientific evidence that nursing mothers are somewhat protected from breast cancer later in life. That's a plus. I just considered that breastfeeding was a cheaper and more bonding way to feed my baby. and because I was in a position to do it, I just did. And you know what? She hasn't missed a meal since!
It remains to be seen if I ever did anything else right. I still seek absolution...and credit!
No comments:
Post a Comment