Eye Gazing
It is no surprise that I have to fight to get face time with each of my children, or rather they have to fight to get face time with me. Sometimes it's 6pm and I'll grab a face between my hands and say, "Have I even SEEN you today?" Isn't that sad? I look at my kids all day long. I look at them when I'm helping them pull a shirt over their head, or buckling a bike helmet. I look at them around the dinner table and when I tuck the blankets under their chins bedtime. But do I really see them? It is a conscious decision for me to stop whatever it is I'm doing and turn to my child to answer their question -after I've let them complete the question - while looking them straight in the face, really seeing them.
When Ben had his moral interview for his school, over a year ago, one of the habits he showed was this: He fully listened to the questions they asked, and answered them spot on, but kept his eyes on other things, almost like he was too busy to stop and look when spoken too.
I wonder where he learned that?
How often do I say to my children, "Stop and look at me while I'm talking to you, it shows me that you care about what I'm saying."? A lot, I say that a lot. And if my kids dared to be so bold I'm sure they'd say the exact same thing to me.
I prayed about this last night, that I would be in the moment with my children -which was once a stronger trait for me but has become a lost art. This morning we built "The Best Tent Ever" in the family room and played bear cubs and mama bear. We had snacks and stories and make believe goodness for a big chunk of time. Then I looked at the clock and realized it was nearly time to go to swim lessons.
We played hooky on swim lessons.
I couldn't miss this moment with my kids. And even though we had been playing for surely a "sufficient" amount of time they were still so engaged and I was afraid to blink lest it all end too suddenly.
Wise mothers of grown children stop me and offer to trade their quiet, leisurely stroll through the grocery store to have just one more day with their children at my children's ages. Swim lessons will always be there, but the eyes of my little ones will not always be on me. These are precious, precious times and I want to make sure I see them.
When Ben had his moral interview for his school, over a year ago, one of the habits he showed was this: He fully listened to the questions they asked, and answered them spot on, but kept his eyes on other things, almost like he was too busy to stop and look when spoken too.
I wonder where he learned that?
How often do I say to my children, "Stop and look at me while I'm talking to you, it shows me that you care about what I'm saying."? A lot, I say that a lot. And if my kids dared to be so bold I'm sure they'd say the exact same thing to me.
I prayed about this last night, that I would be in the moment with my children -which was once a stronger trait for me but has become a lost art. This morning we built "The Best Tent Ever" in the family room and played bear cubs and mama bear. We had snacks and stories and make believe goodness for a big chunk of time. Then I looked at the clock and realized it was nearly time to go to swim lessons.
We played hooky on swim lessons.
I couldn't miss this moment with my kids. And even though we had been playing for surely a "sufficient" amount of time they were still so engaged and I was afraid to blink lest it all end too suddenly.
Wise mothers of grown children stop me and offer to trade their quiet, leisurely stroll through the grocery store to have just one more day with their children at my children's ages. Swim lessons will always be there, but the eyes of my little ones will not always be on me. These are precious, precious times and I want to make sure I see them.
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