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And Then He Started 3rd Grade

And Then He Started 3rd Grade

Dear Hunter,
You started third grade. You loved it until another boy hit you in the back. On purpose.

I think you handled it the way you felt was best at the time. You told the teacher.
Dad coached you to hit back next time. And we have always told you that you will never be in trouble for defending yourself with your words or your fists.
I coached you to consider doing something without your fists, if at all possible.

Three days later you still ruminated, marinated, really, on the incident and all the bad things you could do to get back at the other boy. You were angry and plotting your retaliation. We were driving to school.

I stopped the car in the middle of our dirt road and turned to look at you. I felt lost. How was I going to help you? Being a parent is full of these moments. Questioning how I can help you on your human journey.

I said, “Honey, I can almost guarantee that the other boy is not thinking about you right now. He’s getting ready for school or getting yelled at by his mom for NOT getting ready for school. He’s taking up all your energy and thoughts right now. You are the one feeling big feelings about something that happened three days ago. Not him. Sweetheart, brains are super powerful. You can choose to not think about him. You can train your brain and make its super powers work for you rather than let all those thoughts run loose. Would you like to know how?” I breathed easier when you said yes.

We practiced how to recognize the thought about him and redirect to something you are good at or were looking forward to. I said his name and you said ‘hunting and fishing’ or ‘playing with the dogs.’

By the time we got to school, you were laughing instead of fuming.

I picked you after school and asked how it all went. You said it went pretty good.

I’ll take that as a win.

I hope we are building a trust so that you keep coming to me when you are angry, hurting, questioning, or happy.

Love,
Mom

 
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Posted by on September 12, 2021 in Letters To My Son, Motherhood, Uncategorized

 

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Hand Hand Hand

Dear Hunter,

Your vocabulary and pronunciation continue to expand so rapidly that I have a hard time keeping up with all the new words you know and use, especially since the pronunciation for many of them isn’t quite what it will be in a few months.

One word I know is “Hand.” It comes out as “hanh.” But when your little fingers reach out for mine, I know exactly what you want. You want to take me some place, show me something you find fascinating or you want me to take the good china out of the cabinet so you can play with it. I know these days, when you want me with you, won’t last forever so I do my best to let go of the laundry folding, dish washing and electronic distractions, take your hand and follow your lead.

You have shown me rocks I never would have seen without your keen eye. You pull me out of grown-up-ness and back to little-hood with peek a boo and toy tractors. I play in the dirt more with you than I ever did when I was a child. We walk down the gravel road to see the neighbor’s horses. We blow bubbles. We chalk the side walk – and the fence and the doors and the house (dad didn’t like that much, but he got over it when the rain came and washed it all off).

Thank you for showing me the world through your eyes. Thank you for taking my hand. And just so you know, it will always be there for you.

Love,
Mom

 

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Man’s (and mama’s) Best Friend

One of my best friends posted that her four-legged canine buddy passed away.  Made me go hug and love on our two hounds, thankful that our 14 yr old black lab and 8 yr old schnauzer are still with us.

There’s just something about a dog’s unconditional love that makes them so unique and special in the world of pets.  Loyalty. Loyalty. Loyalty. All they want is to please us, love us, and be loved in return. (Ok, so a couple of cookies might be on their agenda, too… at least they are for my schnauzer.)

And he deserves a couple extra cookies, in my book. Everyone worried about how he’d be once my son was born. Would he be jealous? Would he do ‘something’?  After all, he was my ‘baby’ first.

He watched over us is what he did. Looking back now (and it wasn’t that long ago), the first few weeks having our son home was blurry and foggy.  Probably due to lack of sleep and adjusting to new parenthood.  Wherever I laid down to nurse the baby, our schnauzer would jump up on the bed and place himself between us and the door.  He’d face the bedroom door and sleep with one eye open, I am sure. He’d follow us into the nursery and watch the door. He’d run to the nursery if the baby was crying there. He looks at me with that, “Aren’t-you-going-to-help-the-kid” look when our son is fussing.

I want this little dog with me (and my son) forever…

 
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Posted by on January 15, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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