Is there anything more dreadful for parents than our city's annual Santa Claus parade? I'm still angry at the numskull who mentioned it to my kids. Next year the rule is if you mention it, you have to take them. By yourself.
The Santa Claus parade is like self-flagellation for parents. Had I worn a hairshirt I would have been appropriately dressed. I mean, why walk into this minefield? Why line up in a downtown wind tunnel in a crowd eight-people deep with your child on your aching shoulders for at least three hours only to see every tired marching band in North America, depressing clowns and tacky plastic floats? You're guaranteed to run out of snacks and water and your children will whine mercilessly the whole time. And when it's time to go home you'll be competing for a seat on public transit against (literally) a million other people - all with tired, crabby children in tow. Does this sound like fun?
This was my experience at the Santa Claus parade this year, only worse. I don't know if it was traffic overload or what, but the second street car we needed to catch never showed up. So there I was on a dirty downtown street corner with two exhausted and starving children who just wanted to get home as quickly as possible and I tell them that they've got to walk...twenty-three blocks.
I've noticed that ninety percent of parenting with Spirit involves setting myself up for success. When I am rested, fed and watered; when I've had some exercise, fresh air and sunshine; and when I've had a little restorative time to myself I am more able and willing to reach for the Spirit's fruit when presented with the option. So you'd think that taking my kids to the Santa Claus parade after a long morning at church and then having to walk home would set me up for failure. My kids would present me with an opportunity to grow in love, but I'd be too tired and hungry and stressed and just plain fed up to take it.
Well pop open the champagne; I feel like celebrating! I didn't let my negative feelings get the better of me! Not this time!
About ten steps into the long walk home, the "why"-ning started: why wasn't the stupid bus coming? why didn't we take the subway instead? why didn't you pack enough food? why don't we have a car like everyone else? why do we have to walk everywhere?
It was irritating. I really really wanted to swat the "why"-ner and decree that we would never - NEVER! - go to the Santa Claus parade again. "Why"-ning is so unhelpful, especially when we're all stressed out. But I managed to stop myself. Or maybe it was divine intervention. In any case I stopped and looked at the "why"-ner and hit a moment of inspiration. I dropped to my knees in the middle of the sidewalk and said, "come here and give me a hug." He was in my arms in less than a second. I said I could see that he was tired; I was tired too. I said I knew how hard it was for little legs to have to walk so far; it was hard for my legs too. I told him how much I loved him. Up until that moment my insides said push away! berate! punish! It's for his own good! I opened myself to love instead. Talk about triumph on a Napoleonic scale!
And what's more, it really worked. We had to stop for hugs two more times before the garage door was in sight, but we got through the rest of the walk without any more "why"-ning.
Perhaps in order to grow in love we need to pursue what initially seems counterintuitive; to pull close when we feel like pushing away, to speak gently when we'd rather be harsh. Perhaps we need to pray, as St. Francis did, that we may never seek so much to be consoled as to console, to be understood as to understand, to be loved as to love with all our soul.
Kristin, I am just getting to your blog now, and reading all your posts to catch up. I love it! I wanted to comment on this because I had a similar experience with Noam yesterday. It's very cold here now (... minus 5 or something, but we're unprepared for it) and I was taking him for our usual walk to the library (1/2 hour) after dropping Simeon off at preschool. Noam was throwing the biggest temper tantrum of his life, trying to writhe himself out of the stroller, and I was pressing on, ignoring him. People were walking by, giving me "looks" and saying things like "it's gonna be a good day!" Finally, I lost it and gave the stroller a big shove onto this grassy field and said "Fine! You want out, get out!" I took him out of the stroller, plopped him on the ground, and sat down on the grass. He just crawled up to me, and sat on my legs, gave me a big hug, and fell asleep in my arms. He was the one who showed me that all we need is love. I totally agree with you that our children are our greatest teachers. Sometimes it's only because they are constantly presenting us with "challenging" opportunities. Do we have a tantrum, or do we grow? Thanks for your blog, Kristie. I can see you growing already. Now it's my turn too!! Miss you, love you. Susan
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