Things My Children Teach Me

I am going to risk it all and accept that this post is totally slushy and gooey, and is aimed directly at the heart-strings… but these thoughts have been rolling around my head for some time, demanding a voice.

A great man and philosopher once said that of all the lessons we learn in life, three are the sweetest and most life affirming – simplicity, patience and compassion. I agree. And it has taken the better part of my thirty-odd years to learn the first two (and I am still not quite there), while the latter has been somewhat easier for me.

I think that if anyone would be able to teach you these lessons, it would be a small child. Their needs demand that we simplify our own needs, and then have the patience to wait for them to be met. I wouldn’t say I was ever an extravagant person, but I was pretty used to getting what I wanted, when I wanted it, until my children came along. Since their arrival I’ve paired back on indulgences to make sure they get what they need to grow and develop, and every mother understands the patience necessary to put off a morning shower until a friend or loved one is around to watch the baby… patience and simplicity.

As for compassion, I am sure that every child teaches their parent how to see the world in a different way. Recently my second son, Harlan, has been asking me the names of total strangers wherever we go… I can’t remember the last time I wanted to know a total strangers name, if ever actually. I now see strangers as more than just shoppers at my local store, or people to share a queue with – I now know the grey-haired man with the suede overcoat is Bill and his pretty plump wife is Margaret. It is amazing how knowing a person’s name changes the way in which you see them.

But more than learning compassion from my children, I am in awe of seeing how they develop compassion themselves, despite being inevitably single-minded toddlers. Malakai is a different story altogether – I don’t know if it’s his extra chromosome or whether he is just naturally a giver, but he has always been quick to share, quick to hug, and quick to say sorry – even if it’s not him at fault. Harlan, on the other hand, is a lot less giving… I suppose typical of a three-year-old.

But as the younger brother to a child with special needs, Harlan often takes the back seat to on-going therapy and interventions, without even blinking an eye. But more than that, I have seen in him a compassion for his brother which is profoundly touching, especially when Malakai is really upset over something.

For example, haircuts – oh the drama. Malakai just cannot tolerate a haircut without a lot of tears and even guttural screams. But there is no escaping the six-monthly visit to the hairdresser. It is here that Harlan’s full quota of compassion comes to the fore as he makes gentle cooing noises and reminds Malakai of whatever amazing reward we’ve conjured up at the end of his ordeal; “You want to see the cows at the dairy Malakai? You want to?” Harlan will sing repeatedly in his tiny little-boy voice. We take turns, Harlan and I, to soothe our Malakai; me with renditions of ba-ba black sheep and Harley with eyes focussed on their mutual reward.

It is at times like these that I realise the depth of patience and compassion that lies in my sons, and my pride in being able to learn from them as much as they learn from me. As for simplicity – children do it best. They are lovers of life’s smallest details, soaking everything up and proverbially sucking the marrow out of every single day.

Children really are our teachers in life – they bring us the lessons we need, if we only open our eyes to see them, and hearts to learn them.

When was the last time you took an inventory of what your children have taught you?
 
BY Loren Stow