AP Month Essay Contest
Essay 2 - Giving Our Children Presence
“I’d kill myself” was the comment the middle-aged woman made upon learning that I had two boys just entering their teen years and one toddler just entering his “terrible twos.” Her hyperbole aside, the comment’s negativity was very telling about her experience in raising her own children. As she pitied me, I in turn pitied her. How sad, I thought, that she was one of the walking wounded I infrequently meet, the few who leave their child-rearing years with the thousand-yard stare of a veteran who has seen too much on a battlefield.
Why, I wondered, is it so different for me? Why am I blessed to experience motherhood as the peak of my life’s work and the pinnacle of my life’s meaning? Could it be that my kids are perfect? Well, they’re pretty great but not that great. Or could it be that I’m a saintly woman who...never mind, that’s definitely not it.
I finally decided that it’s not something inherently special about me or my husband or even the kids…it’s about the sum of us…a relationship in which we share ourselves authentically and, in so doing, build each other up and become our greatest potential, both individually and as a family.
Hendricks boils down this soul-building kind of relationship into one word, presence. I like the multiple layers of meaning Hendricks invokes with his word choice. In “giving our children presence,” we are instilling within them the unshakeable belief that they deserve to belong, to be listened to, and to be respected. We are giving them the ability “to be present to themselves” and, as a result, live authentic, well-balanced lives. But Hendricks is also referring to the mode by which we impart presence. It is by our own presence that we give our children presence.
Among other things, presence means physically “being there.” For my husband and I, this type of presence means integrating our boys into our lives. Whether it’s running errands, going to film festivals or wedding receptions (all situations that many people hire sitters for), we bring the boys along. As a stay-at-home mom, I’m there when the older kids come home from school, or a party or when they have a hockey game. I’m there when the youngest wants to take a “wok” outside or when he wakes in the night and wants to nurse, again. He sleeps in our bed so that he may be nurtured in his asleep moments as well as his awake moments. I’m still nursing him and plan on doing so until he is ready to stop (which may be a while, at age 2 he shows no sign of weaning!). We also express affection frequently in words and actions. Hugs, kisses, back rubs, laughter and tussling are the lingua franca of our daily life.
Beyond the physical, the word presence evokes a sense of mindfulness, of “being in the moment.” It means being respectful, paying attention and validating our sons in their efforts to become their potential. Underlying that mindfulness is an acceptance of whatever that potential may be. Since they were babies, they’ve frequently heard, “I love you always and forever, no matter what.”
There is a lesson, perhaps, in acceptance when we consider the lowly dandelion. The vilified dandelion is really just a flower that has grown where we’ve arbitrarily decided we don’t want it. What if we could reorient our thinking and appreciate the dandelion’s cheery call-to-spring as beautiful rather than as an ugly weed? We would save ourselves a great deal of aggravation and find a new appreciation for nature’s design.
Likewise, what if we could look at our children’s natural inclinations and nurture them as inherently right for them? There is a beauty in allowing their personalities to take their course as they mature. If I’m not worrying about whether my artistic, sensitive son is any good at contact sports, I’m able to relax and enjoy his journey without worrying about where he’ll end up.
When the older boys are getting ready for bed, I visit them in their respective rooms. In the dark, with no distractions, we talk about the day they’ve left behind and the day ahead. It is during these quiet, womb-like moments when I’m laying next to them that I learn about what’s troubling them or pleasing them. It’s then that I find ways to encourage and inspire them with visions of what wonderful men they can grow up to be. It’s when we reconnect and affirm our shared bond. Oh, and we do a lot of laughing.
As I write this, it’s late and I’ve just spent the last few minutes with my middle son, in his room listening to his stream-of-consciousness take on the day. Before I finish this paragraph, he has jumped out of bed for one last hug. As sweet as that is, it’s his words that really move me. He asked, “Mom, when you leave my room at night, do you ever say to yourself, ‘I’m doing a great job?’” With a laugh and a hug, I answer him with a question of my own, “When I leave your room at night, do you ever say to yourself, “Mom’s doing a great job?” His answer was an enthusiastic grin and an unequivocal “YES!”
So maybe the answer to why I find motherhood energizing, uplifting and meaningful has to do with all the things that give presence to our boys. There’s an almost mystical circularity to this dynamic…by being present (physically, affectionately and mindfully) my husband and I are not only growing the boys’ presence but we are experiencing joy upon doing so. In turn, as they observe the joy we take in their presence, their expectation that they will be valued grows, as does the confidence to “be present to themselves” no matter what.
