And around this corner...

Part 1
Last Saturday we turned another corner with Nora - a beautiful, glorious corner. As with every major development we have shared since we three have been together these last 2+ years, we didn't see it coming and we weren't sure what was next, but this was a special corner. Nora, who had been kicking our butts for several months (20mos. - 26mos.?) with extreme neediness, stubbornness and horrible impulse control, woke up last Saturday morning with a new attitude, a sweetness that is beyond compare and patience!

At first, I thought this change was cause for concern. (Yup, that's me, my grandmother's negative granddaughter!) I was worried that her pleasant behavior was a result of the fact that Sam was away for a long weekend. I was concerned that maybe Nora would always be better behaved when she was alone with one of us and we would have to figure out some co-parenting arrangement where Sam and I were never together in the same room with her! But upon Sam's return, she remained sweet, kind, patient and funny. She continues to learn what makes us laugh and she's working hard on her timing. This week she actually waited in the doorway of the garage for me while I took care of some things, just because I asked her to. It was revolutionary. And she's back to being able to play quietly by herself while I'm in another room of the house - something she hasn't done since the move. In fact, I was actually able to take a few showers while Sam was gone.

This change has been huge, welcome and indicative of parenting for me. Just when you can't take something any longer, you get a small reprieve and then it's hard to remember what it was like before the change. It's strange to me that given how often this has happened (with sleep issues, with teething issues, with food issues, with developmental leaps), I still haven't learned to internalize it. Every time I'm about to lose my mind I forget that there's another corner coming and what is on the other side will be completely unexpected. I suppose one day I'll learn this lesson, but I suppose by then it will likely be moot.

Part 2
A few weeks ago Nora and I were leaving day care (she was walking next to me holding my hand) while the school aged summer kids were waiting to go out to the playground. As we walked by a line of about 20 of them, 4 or 5 girls, around the ages of 7-9, crouched down, reached out their arms and began a chorus of "Can I have a hug Nora?!" It was overwhelming for me and I'm a foot taller than they are. And they weren't cooing my name. I looked down at Nora to see how she was responding to it and she looked up at me and said, "I don't want to give hug, Momma."

"Ok," I said and we continued to walk outside. When we were a few feet away from the center I picked Nora up and said, "I have something very important to tell you. Can you listen to me?"

She nodded.

"You never have to hug anyone you don't want to hug. Momma and Abba will never be mad at you if you don't want to hug someone. Do you understand me?"

She nodded again and gave me a look that I have recently become familiar with. It said: "I'm not sure what you're telling me, but whatever it is I know you're serious."

I didn't want to scare her, so to lighten the mood I said, "Can I have a kiss?"

And she happily kissed me and we continued on our way to the car.

The enormity of this conversation took a few days to hit me. I kept replaying it in my head and trying to work out my feelings about it. I wanted to protect her; I wanted to give her power to protect herself, but in some ways I feel that way every day - this was decidedly different. And then I finally realized what was so meaningful about it: I realized that if I didn't stop to teacher her that lesson, no one would. Or, more appropriately, I realized that while Nora has teachers and will have friends and other adults who will influence her, whether it seems like it in the moment or not, Sam and I are "it." We will likely (hopefully!) have the most profound impact on her and it is our job to teach in every teachable moment that arises. It is our jobs to transmit values by what we say and what we do, our job to put down a healthy and solid foundation which will help her handle everything else that may come flying at her, even when we're not around.

It was a huge realization that has made me tear-up on the occasions of retelling it this week. And like the corners before it (see Part 1, above), I wasn't prepared for it, but since it has crystallized in my mind, I can no longer imagine a time before I felt this way - before I knew this to be true.