The Language Of Our Lives

I cannot begin to describe how our shared language has changed.

When I was a child my mother said that I “never used one word when ten would do”. I took after my father in that regard, and The Brother, in turn, takes after me. The Boy is our silent type.

Using more words, using big words, does not mean you are using English better, it just means you are using more of it.
Using more words does not always help you impart the message because often less is more.

So for years I used more words, “smart” words and I thought it would help me “look” intelligent, help me feel like I belonged with my peers, help me feel powerful over those who were weaker than me.

I used words against The Boy. It has taken me a long time, but I have forgiven myself for using those words. It was only with that forgiveness could I look properly at the words I wanted to use, the message I wanted to convey.

What has become more evident of late is that the words I use with The Boy are now the words I use with everyone. I cannot have a lexicon wrapped up in consent, consideration and collaboration with one person in my life, and something else for everyone else.

To do that would be to disrespect everyone.

This Is Silbury Hill

Isn’t it beautiful?

This is the hill I will not die on. When I make a decision to not fight, to not push back, to not become authoritarian, I make the decision that it is just not worth the effort that it would take, and the losses that would incur, if I tried to defend this hill, this position.

So instead of fighting, instead of shouting, instead of demanding, I offer empathy for the issue at hand and state that a later we will have a conversation about whatever the issue at hand is.

And that’s it.

It took him a while to see that I wasn’t fighting. He climbed that hill many times, only to discover I wasn’t at the top.

Recently, in response to a comment someone made, he said “but we don’t fight”.

And that’s it.

Then And Now

So many things have changed in the way I parent The Boy and The Brother. I am aware that the change has happened internally (my mindset) and externally (the words I use and things I do). I have become so familiar with the words I use now that I don’t remember the old words until I hear someone else use them. Now when I hear them I find them so jarring, so confrontational, and I typically respond with my translation.

So here is my then and now.

The Things I Try To Remember

So much of what I have done with The Boy is being applied to the wider population now, and is gaining me a reputation (a good one, don’t worry).

In every interaction I work to remember…

My logic is not their logic
My perception is not their perception
My history is not their history
My baggage is not their baggage
My experience is not their experience
My solution is not their solution

I am the sum of the stories and experiences that go to make up me.  My equation is unique, so is theirs.

So I work to let them be their own equation, let them show me their work in the margin.

I Am Not Seeking Perfection

The saying goes “practice makes perfect”, but I am not seeking perfection.  I want to be so well practiced that the thing, whatever it is, becomes instinctive.  I don’t want to have to think and remember how to parent The Boy with respect.  I don’t want to have to check back to my life rules and wonder if/how they apply to this situation.

I have stopped checking in with my life rules.  Practice has made familiarity, it is leaning towards instinctive.  Practice has also extended to everyone.  I don’t have a way of interacting with him, and a different way of interacting with the rest of the world.

I now live my life rules.  I live them with a 3 year old child of a friend, with the acutely sick individual I encounter in work, with the random person on the internet, with my colleagues (whether they are young enough to be my child or old enough to be my parent).

I don’t ration respect.  I don’t have a quota of tolerance.  I don’t have a quantum of consideration.  The more I do it, the more I want to do it.

Frank Cross, as portrayed by Bill Murray in the movie Scrooged, said it better than I could…

It can happen every day! You've just got to want that feeling!
You'll want it every day! It can happen to you!
I believe in it now.
I believe it's gonna happen to me, now. I'm ready for it!
And it's great. It's a good feeling.
It's better than I've felt in a long time.
I'm ready.

Do Not Cross!

I marked thick lines.

Do Not Cross!

I helped him not cross.

Sometimes he crossed.

I said –

The Lines Are There!
Do Not Cross!

He remembered.

I mark more thick lines.

I remind him often.

Do Not Cross!

He rarely crosses.

Who’s In Charge?

scrub nurse

When The Boy & The Brother were younger I was the surgeon in the operating theater that is their lives.  I was in charge.  I did all the things.  Not only did I do all of the things, I did them faster and better than anyone else could do, than anyone else could ever do.  I know my children better than anyone else after all.

Then I met two people who know my children way better than I know them.  I tried to keep being the surgeon.  It ended badly.  There are new surgeons now, albeit part time.

In matters of physical care, The Boy has become the surgeon.  So I have became the scrub nurse.

I help The Boy, but I do not do the tasks.
I inform the process and procedure, but I do not do the tasks.
I offer assistance, but I do not do the tasks.

It takes work to remember that I am no longer the surgeon, and to remember that my goal as scrub nurse is to help to produce an excellent surgeon, one who knows that he is part of a team in need of help, information and assistance.