I've spent a great deal of my life being fake, pretending, being inauthentic. The reasons vary: to keep the peace, to shove the situation under the rug, to not be called names, to not hurt someone's feelings, it's easier.
And though I am grateful for this new space to be completely me...I realize with some people in my circle, authenticity can not exist. I grow, become more myself, yet, I still lie to keep the peace. I quietly accept lies in order not to aggravate the situation. I am quiet and pretend to accept someone's lies in order to maintain some faux sense of ...
I am more grateful than ever for those with whom I can be authentic and truly trust...I am hopeful that this group will continue to grow. I need authentic relationships and people to balance out the inauthentic ones and to help me to keep growing and becoming me.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
On reading to little people
Ezra grabs my heart when he grabs a book, brings it to me and says, "book." And I remember so fondly reading this same books to Elijah at this age. And they both loved hearing the stories, my sing-song voice, the pictures, the red balloon and the old lady whispering hush, the 3 plums, four oranges, the crickets and Polar Bear, Polar Bear, and Please, Baby, Please.
They also both turned the pages of the books before I finished reading the page or grabbed more books for me to read, when I finished one. I love looking at Ezra's eyes gaze with wonder at the pictures as I read and point. It's a small thing, but it's a beautiful moment in our hectic lives.
They also both turned the pages of the books before I finished reading the page or grabbed more books for me to read, when I finished one. I love looking at Ezra's eyes gaze with wonder at the pictures as I read and point. It's a small thing, but it's a beautiful moment in our hectic lives.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
On being 7
For the last two days, Elijah has been wiggling this loose tooth, hoping it would fall out. Last night, I tried to twist it for him; but I just wasn't up to the task.
As we witnessed the first droplets of blood, I thought it was time. "If you keep wiggling it, it will come out." He did. And I was so proud that he was persistent, he was determined and was not afraid of the blood, was not afraid of hurting himself. I love these things about this little boy, in addition to the way his imagination works. He was seven! His new independence had come in full force..just like his two year old brother who insists on feeding himself, despite how little makes it to his mouth or pushes himself out of the chair and onto the floor when he is unable to assert and be rewarded for his new independence.
The parallels between these two ages is remarkable.
My seven year old's mind went to work explaining how his classmates wanted to know if the tooth fairy would come and how much money he would get.
Elijah took a trip into the recesses of his imagination and then detoured into logic-ville with his desire for rationale explanations he questioned the existence of fairies. (This same child insisted that Santa Claus was real when I told him Santa didn't exist. This child told me to listen to the Christmas songs and that proved Santa was real) He got to thinking and talking, "I wonder when will the tooth fairy come? midnight? How does she get the money to give me? Does she turn into someone and then go to the bank to get the money and then turn back into herself? Does she buy the money? I bet her house is made of tooths, I mean teeth. I think her doorknob is one big tooth... I'm going to wake up early in the morning to see what I got."
I let him call his grandmother and she fueled his excitement by saying maybe the tooth fairy would give him a lot of money since he pulled the tooth out himself. She seemed to forget our most recent conversation about the energy bill.
I snatched a single from Elijah's birthday money that I had put away for him to spend in February and slid it under his pillow. He spoke unintelligibly as I lifted his head and felt for the Ziplock baggie.
I rubbed some ointment on his itchy skin, kissed him good night and felt blessed.
As we witnessed the first droplets of blood, I thought it was time. "If you keep wiggling it, it will come out." He did. And I was so proud that he was persistent, he was determined and was not afraid of the blood, was not afraid of hurting himself. I love these things about this little boy, in addition to the way his imagination works. He was seven! His new independence had come in full force..just like his two year old brother who insists on feeding himself, despite how little makes it to his mouth or pushes himself out of the chair and onto the floor when he is unable to assert and be rewarded for his new independence.
The parallels between these two ages is remarkable.
My seven year old's mind went to work explaining how his classmates wanted to know if the tooth fairy would come and how much money he would get.
Elijah took a trip into the recesses of his imagination and then detoured into logic-ville with his desire for rationale explanations he questioned the existence of fairies. (This same child insisted that Santa Claus was real when I told him Santa didn't exist. This child told me to listen to the Christmas songs and that proved Santa was real) He got to thinking and talking, "I wonder when will the tooth fairy come? midnight? How does she get the money to give me? Does she turn into someone and then go to the bank to get the money and then turn back into herself? Does she buy the money? I bet her house is made of tooths, I mean teeth. I think her doorknob is one big tooth... I'm going to wake up early in the morning to see what I got."
I let him call his grandmother and she fueled his excitement by saying maybe the tooth fairy would give him a lot of money since he pulled the tooth out himself. She seemed to forget our most recent conversation about the energy bill.
I snatched a single from Elijah's birthday money that I had put away for him to spend in February and slid it under his pillow. He spoke unintelligibly as I lifted his head and felt for the Ziplock baggie.
I rubbed some ointment on his itchy skin, kissed him good night and felt blessed.
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