I have two very different kids. One is in my face. The other one is very reserved. I have learned to engage with the outspoken one, who is so different than me. It challenged and changed me for the better. What shall I do with the one whose personality is too similar to mine? You’d think it’s easier. At first glance it is. Actually, the personality itself which I had worked so hard to polish as my own, is easy to digest, but beneath the quiet there is a storm. There are big feelings that need an outlet. I poured out my heart to God, in prayer and in my journal. But being alone in one’s own head is dangerous. We need to confront our beliefs with reality and in community.
For the most part what we see at the surface is two good kids. Two great kids. They quarrel and get on each other’s nerves. That might be the truest form of expressing their inner world. Often unproductive but real nonetheless.
Connection. Affirmation. Delight. Kids need to feel seen and accepted and embraced. Their mind and heart needs a place to rest fully. I recognize that even at my ripe age of 40. I have my safe place. Home. With people who know me and love me.
I struggle these days with feeling exposed, too vulnerable, a type of vulnerability hangover due to the books we published. I want to run away and hide. This year was the year of imperfection, of releasing things at the lower standard than I wanted, pressed by time or by the amount of competing demands. I don’t want to be in this position again, of releasing imperfect unfiltered unpolished work. And yet, there it is. Outside of my control.
Last night I had a moment alone with my youngest. The dynamic and conversation is definitely different if the eldest is not there to jump in with her opinion. I told my youngest something I had drilled over years with my first daughter. Truth and trust. How we build it. The importance of it. How we maintain it.
The dog was barking out of the blue when we were getting ready for dinner. We got him to be quiet, then I heard a kind of knocking under the table. (Which usually sets the dog to bark) I looked at the girls. Their hands under the table. “Who is knocking?”, “Not me!” They both answer. “You’re not in trouble, I just want the truth.” This word is becoming triggering it feels. Both start justifying and explaining it was not them. Then ivy said nearly yelling “it was me!”. Conrad had her take a sit for 2 minutes at the piano while we were putting food on the plates. She felt betrayed I guess and then again changed her story when conrad asked her why she knocked. She said she wanted to save Jackie from getting in trouble. While I apreciate the sentiment, that is still dishonest. It’s still lying.
After dinner we had the deeper conversation with Ivy. I am failing at connecting with her at a deeper level. Because life is on a fast schedule, and we are never just the two of us. So I decided to listen more. I only told her that we can try a new thing. This month she will never get in trouble no matter what she did, as long as she tells us upfront the whole truth. Then I was quiet. She was quiet too.
I told her I know she doesn’t like to be corrected. Most people don’t like to be wrong or told they did something wrong. And then I was quiet again. Looking into her eyes with a soft gaze. And then Ivy opened up about school. She was articulate, and told me more about her experience at school than she did the whole year. When she raises her hand to respond there is one colleague who turns and looks at her with rolling eyes. A judgmental kind of look.
Then her teacher told them to pack their pencils and when Ivy did, the teacher corrected her calling her by name: “Evelyn, not now!” And she felt embarrassed and kept thinking that the teacher was wrong as she had just told them to pack their pencils.
The class is chaotic often. I don’t think I could follow directions there. I’d be in trouble a lot. Even if I had the best intentions.
So my little ivy, whose identity is tightly connected to the good kid, helpful, quiet, pleasant kid personality, it is hard to be called out for doing something wrong. I hope she embraces the imperfection and leans into it. At home she practices daily the troublemaking and I call her out on it. Or praise her courage to try new approaches. Knowing how she feels on the inside, softening some of my righteousness, and taking time to connect and encourage her heart, that she is loved and known and delighted in… that would be a win for her and us as a family. May I have the wits and wisdom and patience to help her grow strong and confident and brave.