Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Just Writing

Children want all of you. They will accept no substitutes. There are some days where, retreating from their constant neediness in mental and emotional exhaustion, I find myself hiding behind snacks, movies, trips to the park and library-- the wall of distractions I've erected to try to preserve some last vestige of Self before they suck me dry. And as the day devolves into whining and crying and clutching at my legs as I try to cook dinner, swatting bottoms in a vain attempt to re-establish some sort of adult-driven hierarchy, at some point I finally realize that what they want is Me.


Just, myself. My eyes looking into their eyes. My voice talking to them. Quietly. Not directing, not advising, not teaching-- just talking To. Them.

Or maybe not-talking. Maybe they want my ears, open, listening. Letting their words sink all the way into my mind. Sitting still, just watching them play and listening. Being there. All the way there. Only there. Only for them.

Not busy, not working, not managing, not training.

Sitting. Listening. Watching.

They just want me. All of me.

And when I can realize that soon enough in the evening, I can stop doing and sit. I can listen, watch and be. Then a peace comes slowly wafting into the house... A smell of babies' heads and sweaty little boys. A sound of leggos clicking into place and cars brrrruuuming along a track. An easy breath, a relaxing sigh. And suddenly, magically, because of the giving, like a re-living of the Loaves and the Fishes, there's suddenly enough Me to go around.

and then there are days like today where i only realize the tight-fisted holding onto myself in the silence of a a sleeping house and ohmyheart i thank God for another day, another chance, another test-- to get it right this time, please God.

Just Writing, with Heather of the EO and lots of other lovely bloggers...

1 comment:

Heather said...

Oh how I relate. Yes. This is so true. Thank you.