Joseph got into the car with wide eyes and chattered to me about friends, teachers, and most importantly, Legos. I feel into an easy peace, as I listened to him contemplate all things electronic and as he told about the best machine that he had built that day. I heard many new names of children that he was eager to see again the next day, and heard about him taking a turn at being Library Leader. I started to ask questions about other things; the important details.
“So…what did you have for lunch today?”
“I don’t remember,” Joseph answered slowly.
“Did you have hamburgers?” I had seen a pile of hamburgers on a serving dish when I dropped him off earlier in the day and thought I’d be helpful and prompt him with this little hint.
“No. We had cheeseburgers.”
“Oh…and did you have anything else…like carrots?” I asked. I had seen those there also…
“Oh, yes, yes! But I didn’t have any,” Joseph said, his voice sounding flat.
“Huh? You didn’t have any? I thought you liked carrots.” A few days earlier, I had picked him up from preschool and he was a hungry little rabbit. Conveniently, I had brought baby carrots with me. He and Esther had even fought over them, when I handed one back to him and not to her.
“Well, none of the other kids had any, so I didn’t.”
“Oh…I see…” I drove on in a moment of silence.
We drove past some of the other schools that had just let out. I scanned the streets for kids, driving slowly through the neighborhoods. I thought about the implications of sending my children out into the world. There are so many influences that can shape a life.
One day, after having played at the park close to our house, the kids and I walked back home, me with Esther in the stroller and Joseph speeding ahead of us on his bike. We saw a neighbor on the way and stopped to talk with her. She talked about her granddaughters and the older one who attends kindergarten.
“A small part of her innocence leaves when she goes to school or when she goes out into the world,” the neighbor said, looking at my son, “He will soon go out into the world,” her voice trailed off and she ruffled his hair.
I first bonded with each of my children when they were in my womb, each movement inside was evidence of a tangible life that was nourished by me. I bonded at birth with each of them, fresh and wet from the water where they had grown and lived. I brought each one to the breast and sustained them; they drank eagerly as tiny fists curled and uncurled.
As I wean and encourage independence in Joseph and Esther each, I feel a twinge of sadness and I ache. These days slip by very quickly and l cannot quite grasp just how fast the time can go. So each day, I watch them and laugh and write down my own musings about them. I breathe in their scents when I hug them and feel fully their kisses upon my face. I allow them to take me to their secret places of childhood and am honored to be given admittance there. Innocence is still abundant in our home.
Some of my most important work is with my children and some of my most important lessons come from these wondrous beings. My children are gentle and do not know about deceit, revenge, hatred, or other things they may have to encounter in the world. My heart feels light and free when I watch them at play or at work. My children do not have guile and sincerely love everyone and more importantly, themselves. Smiles reign at home, more often than tears, and they find wonder in everything around us. I believe that when I look back on my days as a mother, that these are the days that I may miss most. These children are my dearest treasures and these beings radiate and exemplify pure light. There is something very special and sacred about them.
I am certain that my children will be subject to ridicule, criticism and many other uncomfortable things as they become more independent. But in our home, they will find comfort, love and teaching. It is here they will find refuge and it is here that they will learn to find good in the world. It is my hope that my children will walk with honor here and find great happiness in their deeds.
That day, after I picked up Joseph from preschool, I continued the conversation about the carrots. We arrived home, and as I turned off the car engine, I looked back and said to Joseph, “now, you know you can eat carrots even if the other kids don’t eat them. It’s okay for you to do that.”
“I know, mom.”
I continue my work with him...
