So without furthur ado, January's guest post comes from Kim....
Can you relate?
There's not a mother, or father for that matter, that hasn't had their entire world turned upside down upon the birth of their first child. The depth of emotions are indescribable. We instantly begin making promises to those tiny, fragile human beings. Some are realistic. We promise to love and protect with all of our soul. Others, not so much. I will never raise my voice to you or feed you any junk food.
Our promise to love and protect is an innate one. It's a maternal instinct we carry fiercely. Yet, I think there's another promise we need to make to our children. And one, I think, we all have difficulty with. A part of the brain changes as our children grow. We make the transition from single entity to parental unit. As humans, we progress and use our experiences to mould who it is we will be tomorrow. We burn our hand and learn to not touch fire. We drink too much and get sick, until we learn our limits (okay, maybe we haven't all mastered that one). Yet, once we have children we seem to forget that we were ever children ourselves. Why is that? Isn't that experience, having lived through exactly what they are going through right now, the most important knowledge we have for the job? We read books, we talk to other mothers, we ask our elders, but we never delve back to our own childhood for the answers.
Perhaps that's not true. But I'm pretty sure that most of us don't do it nearly often enough. As if the memory of that immature brain couldn't possibly hold the key. Well I say it can. And I think we need to relate more to our children. The next time we are running late and need our child to run and get their own hat and she says she is afraid, we (read that I) need to remember
that our own imagination has been active too. And we needed our parents to understand, we begged them not to force us. Shouldn't we have compassion as a result?
My point is we shouldn't become so "grown up" we forget how to be a kid. Or rather, we forget what it feels like to be a kid. The brain impulses not matching up, our bodies uncoordinated and awkward, an emotional time bomb ready to go off. And perhaps the most important. How every single little thing is brand new. Are we so far removed from our youth that we can't relate? I hope
when my daughter comes home at 16 years old smelling like peach schnapps and vomit, I can reach back and remember that what "I" needed at that moment in time was for my mother to hold my hair and get me a cool rag. The talk can wait until morning.