o is for...

I am sharing a few words from my friend Eileen (thanks lady)

"After all the lessons, all the shouting matches, all the creativity and showing them how to make choices...there comes a time when we just have to sit back and let them do things themselves. 

When we observe, we see their first steps, the unsolicited hugs they have for their friends and siblings, their problem solving, their confidence on the playground, and their choices.

When we observe, we see our children's true personality and character. The moment when we see as a parent that our babies do listen to us. And do want to make us proud."

Que the waterfall of tears when I read Eileen's words in response to an O word for this series. I really couldn't say it better so I hope she does not mind my overstep. 

Observe.

I love it. I need to do it more. I used to.

When I was younger, still growing up, (still am) I watched a lot. I wrote a lot. I retreated a lot. And when I did actually speak up, I realized (most of the time) people listened. It was a strange experience for me to see anyone perk up at what I had to say. I started speaking more but that's a story for another post ;-)

I still prefer to sit back, to watch and wait for what is supposed to happen. I was never the child that ran for the pinata when it broke. Even though I love candy. I was a tad timid but strong enough to know what I did or did not want. 

I try to imagine myself through my parents eyes. I wonder what they observed about me, how they watched me change and grow, struggle and triumph. I watch my own child on the playground, adrift in his own world, running with a hula hoop imagining who knows what, and I wonder where he will go.

I need to remember to do this more, getting to the school a few minutes early to observe him, slipping into his room at night to admire his little face just one more time before I go to sleep, letting him wander while we walk and just watching where he wants to go...

I always wanted to create. I always wanted to tell stories. This is a part of my fabric, it's what makes me, me. When my child tells me who he is I want to listen and enjoy the beauty of watching what is supposed to happen. I know he will make me, so, so proud. He already does.