Recently I was standing in very crowded and chaotic place (physically, not emotionally lol) and I observed a bit older than toddler-aged child having a problem coping with it and was having a meltdown. I could totally relate because I get a bit disoriented in crowds and noise, too.
The mom crouched down to talk with her son. She told him she understood that he was having a hard time and it was OK, that she understood his feelings and was trying her best to figure it all out. She didn’t yell at him, she didn’t censure him in any way; she respected the big emotions he was feeling as he was trying to process this scary atmosphere. She didn’t meet his emotions with anger. This was awesome parenting.
After she finished and he calmed down, she stood up and I told her she was a great mom and handled the situation in an amazing way. It was immediate positive reinforcement.
Her face brightened, and she thanked me, gave her son an extra hug, and they were on their way.
We should all take the extra minute to understand the behavior of little ones and to use that time for emotional support, not to be annoyed or lose your temper. Listen to your children and validate their feelings.
Have you ever noticed great parenting and complimented them for it? Sometimes it really does take a village.
Is it ever too late to say you’re sorry, to make amends, to repair the damage? That’s actually today’s theme but you have to keep reading to figure out where this is all going.
When I see these guys skateboarding together, it hits hard. It fills my heart with joy but it’s also bittersweet to realize that so much time has passed. Tick. Tock.
OG skater dad is his hero right now. The kids had no idea their teacher dad could skate.
Being well-rounded and balanced is important, right?
When the original Angel Boy wanted a skateboard, I weighed the pros and cons (cos it could be dangerous) and decided that it was a way to balance his intense interest in books and school, not that academic success wasn’t critical for his future, but skateboarding helped him feel “cool” and more relatable with schoolmates. It was about the only time his head wasn’t buried in a book.
As far back as elementary school, his nickname had been “the professor”, which was actually, happily, prophetic, but he enjoyed skating so much that we worked hard to get a skatepark built in our city and also created an Explorer Post to be eligible for donations which eventually funded the members on a state-wide skatepark trip, which was EPIC.
There was a skate shop near school where the kids would hang out and that’s where they met some of the famous skaters from SoCal: Danny Way, Hawk (of course), Sal Masekela, and Muska. Angel Boy even named his kitty after Muska.
It was a really nice time to be a kid, before our stupid little town ruined it all by rampant overdevelopment.
Here he is, nicely executing a flip. I can’t count the probably thousands of times this move had been practiced and failed and practiced again until he was proficient. What my mom brain sees in this photo is that he’s not wearing ANY protective gear. It’s a miracle he only ended up with one concussion and a couple of broken bones. No one wore helmets or knee/arm/wrist guards back then. What were we thinking?
The original Angel Boy
During high school, at the height of his interest in skating, we built a half-pipe in the backyard and our house was the cool place to be. I was kept busy supplying the kids with cookies and smoothies. #goodtimes #smothermother
Then there were many inevitable graduations and milestones; a doctorate and post-doc; an empty nest. The skate ramp was silent and began to deteriorate as it was never used nor maintained.
An executive decision was made to have it dismantled because it was in such poor, sad, unsafe shape.
At one point, when AB came home and saw it was gone, he was NOT at all happy. He felt that he hadn’t been included nor consulted in the conversation and not only was it a surprise, but I think it represented the end of a happy chapter in his life.
Actually, over the years I had explained to him a few times that he needed to help maintain it if he still wanted to use it, and like most things I said, he either didn’t listen (or ignored me), but in hindsight I agree that I could have been more sensitive. I guess I didn’t know how much it meant to him. It was an important rite of passage.
But I did something even worse…
I got rid of his skateboard! I didn’t do it with malice, honestly!
One day I was cleaning out the garage and thought it was never again going to be an activity he was interested in so I set it out near the street. I literally had no idea that he would ever want it for any reason; to ride or for the memories of all the fun he had skating OR to share with any future children…
But I was wrong…I was such a bad mom!
During a visit home, he asked for his skateboard because he wanted to show the kids some of his cool moves and when I told him I had put it out in the driveway and someone took it, he was SO ANGRY!
I fully understand that he felt betrayed and I felt horrible about it, especially since I’m known for never throwing anything away. Why that? I have no idea, but I did, I admit it.
I’ve been trying to make amends for the last twenty years. Yup, that was all about twenty years ago.
And now I’m offered the opportunity to make it right.
His clone, AB 2.0, is now obsessed with skateboarding!! He went to a skate camp this summer and got his very first real skateboard. Like all the sports he’s tried, he has some real talent, just like his dad. Watch out, Tony Hawk!
Is there anything more adorable than seeing a little guy all decked out in a helmet and safety gear, positioning himself to drop in? I think not.
Bad pic from a video AB 2.0
In this case, it’s not too late to make amends because I was finally able to replace AB’s sk8board and that feels good.
I did it. I made amends. I bought the skateboard; I made the necessary reparations and repaired the bad mom damage.
Even better, I was able to watch those guys skate together which is such a mom/grandma moment. Heart is bursting with love!
(And hopefully, Dad WILL wear his helmet at all times, or I’ll hear about it when the kids call me to tattle on him.)
Sometimes it’s not too late. All is takes is thehonest willingness to want to make things right, even two decades later.
May We Raise Children Who Love The Unloved Things May we raise children who love the unloved things – the dandelion, the worms & spiderlings. Children who sense the rose needs the thorn & run into rainswept days the same way they turn towards sun…
And when they’re grown & someone has to speak for those who have no voice may they draw upon that wilder bond, those days of tending tender things and be the ones.–Nicolette Sowder
🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️
I LOVE the idea of nature-connected living and (grand)parenting!
“My passion and heart’s mission is to help families step back into the circle of wild things and bond with Mother Nature. When rooted in that relationship and ancient connection, we heal, we flow, we fly.” https://wilderchild.com
During a late afternoon walk around the neighborhood, I passed by a house where three or four children (in the eight to ten-year age range) were playing in their front yard.
Maybe at this point I should highlight the fact that I live in a SoCal beach town; solid middle-class, lots of healthy living, outdoor activities, and for the past thirty-plus years, it’s been relatively crime-free.
I’m still troubled by what I witnessed.
I wasn’t paying too much attention to the children until I heard one of the boys say, “The cat, do the cat!” and I saw a black and white cat running to hide in a stand of low growing bushes near the sidewalk.
I heard a popping sound at the same exact time I saw another little shit boy with a plastic gun-type thing pointing it at the cat. Whatever little plastic thingy that was shot out of the gun actually hit the cat, who yelped and ran in a different direction.
What made this abuse even more egregious to me was that the little shits boys LAUGHED.
Harming an animal on purpose was a source of amusement.
WTF is wrong with people?
Never one to ignore bad behavior or shy away from standing up for animal rights, I turned to the two laughing and gawking little shitsboys (the girls had run off at this point) and stated, “You just shot at the cat. I saw you.”
Pretend you are saying those words with the scariest, meanest tone in your voice that you could possibly conjure up. Add a frown, squint your eyes, and you come up with a fair approximation of ME at that moment. I wasn’t referred to as “Mommy Monster” for nothing…
One of the boys ( the blame shifter) quickly pointed to the other boy and said, “I didn’t do it, he did”as he showed us all HIS true colors. Then he too ran away before I followed HIM home because he’s the one who set up his friend to shoot at the poor kitty.
I said to the future sociopath, “Is that your cat?” He nodded. “Do you live here?” He nodded.
“Go in the house RIGHT NOW and come back with your mother or father.”
“Harming an animal is NOT acceptable. What you did was NOT OK.”
The little future Jeffrey Dahmer went in the house and a few minutes later a man reluctantly opened the door a crack and peered out.
I introduced myself and told him what I witnessed. I explained to him that I loved animals, I’m an animal activist, and hoped he would appreciate the serious nature of what his son had done. He said he would discipline his child and let him know what he did was wrong. I explained to him that in my opinion, he should take away the gun because it’s obvious his son didn’t have respect for animals and should not be allowed to hurt another one.
That’s when it got ugly, guys.
The big shit dad told me that he didn’t need my help raising his children, and I responded by saying that it’s clear to me that he wasn’t doing a very good job if his son thought it was funny to hurt a cat. He then informed me in a snotty tone not to raise my voice (I was not raising my voice at all, but that’s something stupid people say to shift the conversation away from the actual content) AND he would raise his children HIS way and I should raise mine MY way and GET OFF HIS PROPERTY.
Since I NEVER miss an opportunity to not-so-humblebrag about my Angel Boy, I pointed to my t-shirt which said “Somebody at Yale LOVES You” as I proudly proclaimed, “I DID my good job, that’s why my son has a Ph.D. from Yale”, and as I sauntered down his driveway, I turned to him and said I might call the police because animal abuse by children could be a red flag sign of future sociopathic crime. He got in the last word by yelling, “Go ahead and call the police!”
I’m drinking a glass of wine now, wondering if I actually should call the po-po to reinforce the concept that abuse of any animal for any reason is horrible behavior and should not be tolerated. There is a very real correlation between children who harm animals and those who commit more serious crimes later in life.
What do you think I should do? And how was YOUR Monday?
This distressing incident made me think of my darling Bandit. I miss her every day.*Sniff*
How could anyone hurt an innocent creature?
It started raining in the middle of the night, so hard it woke me up.
Rain, wind, five inches of snow in our local mountains — is this May or is it December?
I was worried about my little hummingbird and her full nest.
How would they weather the storm?
First thing this morning, I looked out the kitchen window and there she is, swaying back and forth on the hummingbird wind chimes under the eaves, safe and dry.
See the rain coming down? What a smart mom to choose a home that’s protected from the elements and allows her to survey the entire back yard.
Humans can learn a lot about good parenting from other species.
There is no more important job than caring for her young.
Soon enough, they’ll hatch and grow and fly away, leaving her with that empty nest she worked so hard to build.
Maybe that’s what her tiny little hummingbird mind ponders as she sits there hour after hour.
It’s so sad that she puts all that work into building a nest and feeding her babies and they always fly away.
They always leave mommy. *sniff*
I guess that’s the way Mother Nature intended it to be, but it still sucks.
Facebook is full of moms who can’t wait until their children turn eighteen, almost pushing them out of the nest with a packed suitcase and a sigh of relief so they can resume their “lives”, but that’s not the way I feel about it.
As much as I’m bursting with pride at the independent and successful young professor he’s become, his bedroom is still quietly waiting — just as it always was, with fresh sheets on the bed, clean clothes in the closet, and his favorite books lined up on the shelf.
In the beginning, when he first left for college (years ago), the hardest thing to deal with was the silence — the QUIET was deafening. I have no idea how one child could fill up the space with his presence, but he did.
Now, nothing makes me happier than a call telling me he’s coming home for a visit (sigh) so I can load up on the ingredients for his favorite foods.
You know how mama birds feed their young, don’t you? They regurgitate partially digested insects and worms directly into the beaks of their babes.
I’m not THAT extreme, but you know what I mean.
It’s one of my greatest joys to watch my son eat.
I admit it. I do. I sit across from him at the table and soak it all in, every single mouthful.
(Don’t feel sorry for him, he’s used to it.)
And then he leaves again, and the quiet fills our house and our hearts.
Can you guess that I’m missing my Angel Boy right now?
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 