Dude, what's the rush????

My children were late movers. They crawled late, they walked late, and their climbing is probably still a bit behind those of their peers. Given how early they were born, this isn’t shocking, and it doesn’t bother me now (with most of the issues long gone), but it does give perspective to what I am about to say.

My daughter was never diagnosed as delayed enough to get special services, but my son did. Infants and Toddlers, our Early Intervention (EI) program, took an interest in him. I have always been grateful and will always be. They, and the NICU that initially treated my kids, will be huge recipients of money if I ever win the lottery. They deserve it, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

My son’s muscle tone made it difficult for him to lift his head as an infant, and he crawled for the first time 2 weeks before his 1rst birthday. He didn’t walk until almost 18 months old. You can’t imagine the comments I got from strangers, fellow moms, who inquired if I had seen a “specialist”. Yes, In fact I had. Not that it was any of their business, but that’s ok. I understand that they meant well.

My children have very different personalities. The only thing they really have in common is that they invaded my body at the same time and are being raised together, the same age at the same time. As individuals, they couldn’t be more different.  Where my daughter is drama, my son is low key. Where my daughter is loud and social, my son tends to keep more to himself until he knows someone or a group well. He thrives on one-on-one interaction. While he is a disaster at following directions (blatantly ignores you with a beautiful and naughty smile), she chooses between being so insanely helpful or throwing herself on the ground in public protest. No gray area for my little ladybug.  

Over the past 2.5 years, they have simply become more advanced versions of themselves. What’s most ironic, or at least amusing, to me is that he is his dad and she is me, her mom. It’s scary.

My husband and I are both stubborn people, but in distinctly different ways. When I want to dig my heels in, the world gets a show. I want them ALL to know that I am NOT doing it the way they are trying to make me. Fun, huh? My husband is much more under the radar. He’s much more likely to act as if he’s on the same page, and then go do whatever he wanted to do initially. While this does piss me off sometimes, it’s probably a more effective social political strategy. I envy his self control.

One trait my son embodies is what I like to call the “Dude, what’s the rush” gene. Yes, for all you scientists out there, I know that’s not a real gene. It should be, though. My son does nothing in a hurry. He doesn’t walk fast, unless it means seeing another truck or school bus. He’d rather walk slowly, as to not miss anything. When I try to hurry him he simply looks at me as if to say, “What’s the rush?” He then proceeds to bend down (stopping forward progress totally) and begins the pursuit of finding the perfect rock or stick. When he finds it, he shows it to me with total and utter glee. I feel like he’s trying to say. “Mom, if I had hurried, I wouldn’t have found this perfect rock. See?”

And most of me thinks this is fabulous. I love that he relishes the moment. So many of are so unable to do this. I love that he looks calmly at his sister when she freaks out, as if to say “Dude, chill out. Calm down. What’s the problem anyway?”  I can only pray that he holds on to this skill as he gets older and “wiser”. But part of me finds it difficult as well. On a logistical level, it can make things interesting, whether it is his sitting right in the middle of the doorway when I have grocery bags in my hands or refusing to walk when his sister is so far ahead on a neighborhood walk.

As a kid, I hated being rushed, commanded and pushed. I wouldn’t classify myself as having a problem with authority (usually), I just like being granted permission to go my own way within the designated structure. I don’t believe that the straight line is the always the best way to get to your destination. Sometimes the wiggly line gets you there just as well, with a better story at the end. I also believe in the right to ask “why” when you can’t have your way. Yes, I know this will bite me in the butt as my kids get older. But the fact that it’s an inconvenience for me, their mom, doesn’t mean it’s not good for them. (I’ll remind myself of my opinion when their constant “why” is driving me up the wall!)

As a result, I strive to NOT push my children. At least not in the way that makes the lose sight of their own goals and desires. My husband teases me that I will be like Greg’s parents in “Meet the Fockers”. I tend to ignore milestone charts, using them as guidelines instead of instruction manuals. They’ll get there. He tells me that I will be saving their 14^th place trophies. He’s a bit more competitive than I am, as you can see. We balance each other well.

I guess that’s what they mean when they tell you to accept your children for who they are. They are not yours, they are their own. All we can do is watch out for them and shape them the best we can and maybe even learn a few lessons from them in the process. Sometimes, when I find myself feeling frantic, I look at my son and I say to myself. “Dude, what’s the rush?”  Thanks honey, for teaching me that. I appreciate it.