Have you ever experienced a moment where your child acted in such a way that shocked the absolute shi...um, crap out of you? Well, until yesterday, I was not privy to that particular experience, and let me say, I was not amused!
We do basic yoga poses at home with our little ones to help get them from 60 to zero at night before bedtime. Nothing complicated or fancy, just basic Hatha (slow-paced stretching) and deliberate breathing techniques to help them self-soothe, especially Ms. Espresso (yea, that's right, I'm callin' her out—AND?!). So I'm thinking this children's yoga class I heard about would be a great opportunity for the girls to get a bit more experience, as it's very effective at home, and we intend to continue the practice. Little did I know, something in that studio—perhaps the subdued color scheme or the dim lighting—would send my oldest child into a tizzy not soon forgotten by anyone who survived experienced it.
Okay, so I have to admit that the only reason I didn't take her into a nearby bathroom and channel my inner Mavis to remind her of my Caribbean No-Nonsense Granny side (which I've never actually done, but hereby reserve the right to seriously consider) is because I know that at times, her reactions to being uncomfortable or in a new environment can come off rude or snappish. She's five, for God's sakes, so sometimes she's "not quite sure how she's expected to act" at all times, and I know this because she told me so herself. In these situations, Kris and I do our best to reassure her that she should not feel as though she has to be a certain way besides polite, and simply to do the things that make her comfortable, and not worry about what someone else is thinking of her, unless she's doing something impolite. I believe she's just a "thinker" type, and she likes to really assess things in detail, and in time, she'll learn enough about herself to figure it out.
Anyway, I won't give a detailed account, because it's a blog post, not an essay. But in a nutshell, from the moment we met our instructor, right until we left our private lesson and got back into our vehicle, that girl displayed a variety of behaviors less like the person I know, and more like some Bebe's kid whose parent allows them to run amok under the guise of the "kids will be kids" credo (to which I DO NOT subscribe!). Again, I realize that she's only five, therefore I'm not irrational enough to expect her to follow the instructor's every directive—or mine for that matter, or not run around a bit to explore her new environment.
What I did not expect was:
- to need to call her name 12 times each time I needed her attention
- to give her the Mommy-evil-side-eye only to have it responded to with the newly discovered Daughter-evil-side-eye-right-back
- to feel like I had a rambunctious puppy, and not a child blessed with the gift of hearing, and an understanding of basic English words such as "stop that", "no", "come here", "girl, you better not...", and a patois phrase commonly utilized in our household, "But a wha do da pickney ya!", which loosely translates as "Okay child, what is the problem right now?!"
Half way through the lesson, I was about two seconds from bouncing up and down on my toes, running my thumb against my right nostril in a mock boxing stance, and telling her little behind to come get some. And do you know what she started doing? Staring me down with her "Bring it on, Sistah!" look!!
Whoooh! Jesus, Jah, Jehovah, Yeshua, Creator, Hare Krishna, Yahweh, Lord...all y'all...keep me in thy sight!
My takeaway:
It takes time, patience, understanding, and faith to raise children. She is going through her process, learning along the way, and I have to give her room to do that. My job is to continue to be consistent in the stating and reinforcing of my expectations of her, and remind her that her emotions are valid, and the choices are hers to make...however, though the decisions are hers, her butt is mine!
