I remember lots of things but what I'm thinking of now are those moments when I had positive feedback from my children. Without prompt.
At the age of 3 months, my daughter (J), fastened securely to me in a papoose like wrap around - leant back.
I was negotiating my way across a very busy road in Southport, where I've always loved to shop. I looked down, just to check she was okay, and looked up again to check the traffic, but couldn't resist looking back at my daughters face.
Big eyes, sparkling, cheeks so plump and rosie you could bite, the biggest beaming gum almost filled smile. She was Gorgeous, she still is.
She didn't look away, I kept feeling my attention dragged away to check the road again. I'd look back, expecting to see her nestling against me, but no.... there it was still... that Huge Smile!!
I grinned back too, her smile actually got bigger.
It must have been mere moments, but that smile filled years of my life and continues to do so. Memories are important, that's one I treasure.
My Son (K), my eldest son, while watching my favourite film (Superman) with me said, "Why are they doing that?" ... he was sat on my lap, he'd been becoming increasingly concerned with the storyline - this is when they're all still on Krypton - and had wanted a cuddle while we watched.
I explained, "Welllll..... the planet is about to explode, they can't save that. However, Superman's Mum & Dad have found a way to save their baby, which means sending him away... somewhere he'll be safe and can grow up and maybe have children of his own one day".
My Son asked, "Why can't he stay with his Mum & Dad?" so I told him, "They're not allowed to leave and if he stays with them he'll die too. So, because they can't all go, you see, and his Mum & Dad love him too much to want him to die with them, they're sending him somewhere he'll be safe."
My Son (K) cried.
I think he was 3 or maybe 4 years old at that time.
Tears for good reasons, all genuine emotions on display. Lovely!
My Son (D) he's very like me. He very quietly goes about doing things. He questions and looks for evidence. I've always enjoyed attending parental things for him. For the ego stroking. Teachers would gush over how well behaved, and successful a pupil he had/was being. Voted by his last year at school as the "Koolest Kid" and with a lion's mane of curls he enjoys.
My Son (P) is so like my eldest they're almost identical. The only difference being that they're different gender and separated by a number of years <quick math check> 8 years, almost exactly. He's almost like a bit of each of his siblings. I think that they've all influenced him. He's a Very intelligently articulate young man, who's totally unaware of how brilliant he is and so seems nonchalant. He recognises other people's abilities (apart from his Mothers - typically).
Like J, P is very sociable and caring although he'll not tolerate abuse or idiots. Like K, he's sporty and an excellent competitor (praises others and becomes more determined to win and do better himself). He's like D in being caringly considerate and intelligently good humoured. Still, he is an individual with his own points of view and is prepared to defend them but not without considering all other points of view without bias.
I've observed all of these skills being practised by my children, often at my own expense, but it was worth that small sacrifice to see them prove to themselves (against the one person who's opinion they value most in terms of being fair and honest) that they're right.
Or, if they're not..... that the gauntlet (DARE) has been picked up by the one person they trust most, Their Mother.
So in effect, what happened?
They took responsibility.
(with some negotiation and background appreciation)
I gave it.
They took it.
This establishes further conditions, in terms of how effective the route/action taken was and in determining the next choice and options available. Construct is then a perceivable option and due consideration needs to be applied. As a Mother, my success is determined by this selection. So far, 100% success rate.
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