because I'm a mimic, I'm afraid. or maybe it's more accurate to say I have a talent for mimicry. I'm aware this might have come about as some sort of evolutionary development, a bulwark against something.
bulwark. now there's a word. so awkward. I must confess I have only the slightest idea of the meaning of it. is it something like a dam? a berm? and how closely does my idea of the meaning of berm correspond to the dictionary's meaning of it, and again, as always, what does it matter, bulwarks and berms meaningless sounds, as conjured out of nothing as the hands on a clock and the illusion of control that clocks provide, or threaten.
I haven't been to the shed for a day now, a day and a half. but I was at a school carnival tonight, quite the opposite sort of sensory experience, chaos as opposed to calm. yet somehow I floated above the noise and commotion of hundreds of children and their indulgent bleached abercrombied parents, the women chattering in a language I hoped to understand once. what lifted me - and I don't mean it to sound so dismissive, or so haughty - was nothing more than the faces of my girls, and the sound of them saying excuse me and thank you and no, please, go ahead, I'm waiting for my sister, and oh mama, look all the prizes are gone.
and when I said that the experience was the prize they nodded and turned away, satisfied with the beanbag toss and no lollipop for the impermanent perfect arc, happy with the thump of the sand or the beans inside, settling into whatever shape beanbags dream of as they sail through the air.
Friday, June 6, 2008
so I've been reading again. I took some time off, needing to find my own words.
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3 comments:
the experience is the prize! if only more of us taught our children that, how much more exciting their lives would be and how much less manufactured by the hands of others...
if there is only one lesson learned in a life, that's a fabulous one. but apparently many others have already been taught, absorbed, and learned by your girls. this one is the icing on the cake. what a beautiful validation of them, and the fact that you recognize it, of yourself and all your effort. i'd say there was magic and poetry amid the carnival chaos. proof that treasure can be found in the most unlikely of places...
pauline & mark, some days I'm full of all sorts of motherly wisdom. and some of it sinks in, I'm sure. they're good girls, smart and loving and full of idea of their own. I worry sometimes that they're too much like me, that maybe by not inculcating them in the ways of the world I'm doing them a disservice, that they'll struggle to maintain balance the way I do, that the world will be too loud and too consuming, that they should have thicker skins, be less than they are, be satisfied (or dissatisfied) with the things that their peers strive for. and they do, sometimes, they're able to choose their own way and often it's not what I would choose for them. I see their eyes glittering at the thought of owning as many pieces of the latest plastic thing. and then I think everything I've done hasn't made a mark on them, that they'll be as worried about having the biggest, the latest, the most. I go back and forth, wondering if what's better. but I suppose what I mean really is what's easier, what's more common, what's less likely to make them stand out, and standing out is difficult. I'm told often I'm over/hyper sensitive, to noise, to the speed of the world, to everything. I counter that many people are desensitized and even as I don't want that, don't want it because it doesn't suit me, I wonder if I shouldn't try harder to suit myself to the world. but that hasn't worked so well, and this way, the quieter, slower way, works better for me, feels more right and fitting, for me at least. so what should I teach them, what I believe is the way things most often are or the way I want them to be. it's a difficult thing, parenting this way. if I was a less complicated and contradictory person, but. I am the way I am, however that way came about. so to be false to that, what good would that do. they'll find their own way, somewhere in between me and the world, I imagine.
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