The importance of Consistency

Good morning, kittens. At least, I hope it is a good morning for you all.

This morning, like every morning, I somehow managed to drag myself out of bed and not only get myself dressed but also get my son dressed and ready for school, and then out the door to his bus. He catches the bus right up the alley from our place. It's fairly convenient.

Like every morning, I walked him to the bus, told him I loved him, and stood there waiting until the bus pulled away. Like every morning, I waved as the bus pulled away, and he didn't look in my direction. He pretty much never looks in my direction - he sits on the opposite side of the bus and tends to look out the window. However, I'll keep waving. Because I know the day I decide not to bother will be the day that he looks, and is crushed because Mama didn't wave.

Raising children is like that. You have to be consistent. You have to keep doing things even when you don't see the point, even if it feels like a waste of time, even if you feel horribly unappreciated. Because the moment you stop, they'll notice, and be devastated. Consistency is also good because it proves to them they can rely on you, and they can trust you. And if you ask me, there are few things that need to be guarded more carefully than a child's trust.

Other People's Children (And the problems they present)

So earlier today I stood on the sidewalk at 5th and Walnut, impatiently waiting for my daughter to get home from school. I figured it would be your average day - she and her friend Didi would bounce off the bus, run ahead, and Didi would steer the conversation towards boys while Fiona would just be happy to have a friend to talk with. Imagine my surprise when instead, a sobbing child ran off the bus into my arms, clinging to me with miserable desperation. Didi followed her off the bus murmuring, "Fiona, I'm sorry." My daughter just continued to cling to me, and we walked back towards my car.

Once her friend had left, Fiona tearfully informed me that Didi had scared her by yelling at her. Wanting to be reasonable, I asked why, and couldn't get more than a choked "I don't know" in response.

My daughter is young for her age, very sensitive. She's so much like her mother that my heart breaks for her. I remember those years of my life - crushed by even the slightest rejection or disappointment. I still cry in the face of significant disappointment (I've just learned enough self control to do it when no one's looking). My first impulse is to tell her that she shouldn't talk to Didi anymore, but I know that's not right. They need to work out whatever this is on their own. I can't protect her from every slight, and I shouldn't. The girls are at the age where children really start to pick up on casual cruelty, and I can't very well tell Fiona to avoid all the other children in her school to avoid getting her feelings hurt.

I do intend to tell her that she doesn't have to put up with it - she doesn't have to boycott her friend, but she does need to say that she won't let Didi treat her that way. I hope I can present it in a way that sticks.

This would be why, with maybe three exceptions, I don't like other people's children.