Who We Are Becoming

Over the weekend Daily nonchalantly brought up, "Hey mom, you know how I have sensitive ears?" "Yes! I do know that about you." I said. She followed up by saying, "Well, when that day happened, my friend kept asking me to hold her hand, but I couldn't because it was so loud and I needed to cover my ears." "Yeah, I bet, babe." I said. "I'm so glad you were able to do to what you needed and say what you needed to your friend." We moved on. Little things come out of the wood work often these days and Phil and I are trying to keep the metaphorical doors and windows open. We acknowledge, we live, we press in, we move along, over and over.

I went to a trauma informed yoga class over the weekend. It was such a sacred space of encouraging agency over our bodies, movement without instruction or permission, gentle leading with an emphasis on simply noticing things. At one point I was pushing my ear onto my biceps as I stretched my arms up to the sky. As I was doing this, essentially muffling the noise on one side of my head and then the other, the tears started to well up. Quiet tears suddenly invited to flow.

The thing is, I've been covering Daily's ears for her since she was born. She's been unnerved by loud noises, much more than my other two kids. Sirens, fire works, toilets flushing, blenders, etc. all made her heightened as a baby. Into her toddler years it was routine for me to stand in front of her in public restroom stalls and cover her ears while she went to the bathroom, because the automatic flushers scared her. This was our understood norm and then it slowly became normal for her to cover her own ears when she was uncomfortable. The parenting hand off, letting her take over the agency. Teaching her to take care of herself.

The tears came in that yoga class cause I wished the deepest wish that I could have been in her classroom to cover her ears for her. I wished I could have been there for her like the old days and that I could have taken that burden from her so she could hold her classmate's hand. And I hoped that classmate found a friend who could hold her hand, or that Daily's warm presence next to hers was enough in that moment. I found myself wishing and wishing and wishing. 

So many of us administrators and teachers are parents at the school too. Many times I find it hard to engage on a mom level with what happened because my attention to our precious community runs deep. I want to show up and hold the collective ache and show others that we can move forward with joy and wisdom and awareness. It's unique to sit and grapple and want so much right now. 

So, I'm gonna keep letting the tears flow. I'm going to keep being proud of the collective parenting and educating happening right now. We get to model for our babies how to live and as much as I wish I could have taken some of the insanity of that day away from my kids, I am insanely proud of who they are becoming; who we all are becoming.