Where did my infant go?
My daughter is brilliant.
I've never met a more intelligent baby in all my years, and I know this child is destined for great things. Sure, as the mother I'm suppose to think this, but it really hit home for me now that she is able to say more words and is actively trying to communicate with Tom and me. And I see why we do some of the things we do as adults in this tiny little girl. For example, when she wants us to understand something she will repeat it a couple of times before looking us right in the eyes and saying it again, only this time more slowly so we can make it out. Of course we never understand it, and she gets frustrated and grunts at us, much like a European tourist who speaks no English and has run out of gas in Possum Trot, Kentucky. No one taught her to do this, it is just something a person comes up with when all else fails.
She also climbs like a little monkey, and from the stories my mother-in-law has told me I'm guessing she gets this from the Hagy side of the family. The climbing is hard enough to contend with, but this coupled with the fact that she has no fear of anything makes for some stressful moments and a few more gray hairs. I am inspired by her though, as I think fear is what holds most of us back from doing the things we have dreamed of doing. So if we could all stack rickety boxes on slick surfaces to climb towers with sharp corners next to electrical cords--with the intention of jumping off once we've reached to the top, and then do it all again without giving it a second thought--just imagine how different our lives would be.
What if everything was as exciting as learning the word "hey," or figuring out buttons on a remote control? Would there be a need for the entertainment industry if we could all laugh hysterically just by seeing someone pop up from behind a couch over and over again? Would the tourism industry be necessary if exploring a patch of lawn or pulling a leaf off a tree was as exciting as an African safari?
There really is so much to learn from her, and sometimes I get so busy worrying with how we are going to keep the roof over our head that I miss these points. I think about things I wish I had done differently, and she thinks about what she can put on her head to make a new and exciting hat. I think about how much I want to go to sleep, and she thinks about how she can squeeze one more exciting adventure in before sleep overtakes her. This precious gift from God is trying to teach me something, and all I can think about is how I'm going to teach her. Putting it into words now really shows me the insanity of this thing we call life.
I'm trying so hard to remember the tiny ball of baby that would lay in your arms and coo. I look at pictures and it's hard to believe she was ever that small. This process goes so fast it leaves you with no time to really take it all in, and I want so much to remember every moment. Yet I know that there are going to be so many more memories that I won't be able to fit them all in, and some will have to go to make room for what is to come. Parenthood is both a beautiful and cruel process, much like everything else in life I suppose.
I've never met a more intelligent baby in all my years, and I know this child is destined for great things. Sure, as the mother I'm suppose to think this, but it really hit home for me now that she is able to say more words and is actively trying to communicate with Tom and me. And I see why we do some of the things we do as adults in this tiny little girl. For example, when she wants us to understand something she will repeat it a couple of times before looking us right in the eyes and saying it again, only this time more slowly so we can make it out. Of course we never understand it, and she gets frustrated and grunts at us, much like a European tourist who speaks no English and has run out of gas in Possum Trot, Kentucky. No one taught her to do this, it is just something a person comes up with when all else fails.
She also climbs like a little monkey, and from the stories my mother-in-law has told me I'm guessing she gets this from the Hagy side of the family. The climbing is hard enough to contend with, but this coupled with the fact that she has no fear of anything makes for some stressful moments and a few more gray hairs. I am inspired by her though, as I think fear is what holds most of us back from doing the things we have dreamed of doing. So if we could all stack rickety boxes on slick surfaces to climb towers with sharp corners next to electrical cords--with the intention of jumping off once we've reached to the top, and then do it all again without giving it a second thought--just imagine how different our lives would be.
What if everything was as exciting as learning the word "hey," or figuring out buttons on a remote control? Would there be a need for the entertainment industry if we could all laugh hysterically just by seeing someone pop up from behind a couch over and over again? Would the tourism industry be necessary if exploring a patch of lawn or pulling a leaf off a tree was as exciting as an African safari?
There really is so much to learn from her, and sometimes I get so busy worrying with how we are going to keep the roof over our head that I miss these points. I think about things I wish I had done differently, and she thinks about what she can put on her head to make a new and exciting hat. I think about how much I want to go to sleep, and she thinks about how she can squeeze one more exciting adventure in before sleep overtakes her. This precious gift from God is trying to teach me something, and all I can think about is how I'm going to teach her. Putting it into words now really shows me the insanity of this thing we call life.
I'm trying so hard to remember the tiny ball of baby that would lay in your arms and coo. I look at pictures and it's hard to believe she was ever that small. This process goes so fast it leaves you with no time to really take it all in, and I want so much to remember every moment. Yet I know that there are going to be so many more memories that I won't be able to fit them all in, and some will have to go to make room for what is to come. Parenthood is both a beautiful and cruel process, much like everything else in life I suppose.
Kelly, I have recently found this too (that our children really have a lot to teach us if we are willing to learn). After thumbing through and reading a little of "Raising Our Children, Raising Ourselves" (author slips my mind at the moment), I have been trying harder to learn from my children instead of just trying to teach them all the time.
ReplyDeleteOne of the magnificent things this book brought to my attention is that most often when you are getting on to your children, you should probably be telling yourself the same thing.
Now, granted...I do not need to tell myself to stop jumping on the furniture. However, I do need to tell myself quite often to "be more patient" or "stop making such a big fuss out of it".
So, YES...we should all try a little harder to learn from our children as much as we try to teach them. The world, as you said, may just be a better place because of it!