He Didn’t Spill

I turned the corner a little too sharp and my overpriced large iced tea went cascading like a waterfall to the floor board of the car. My thoughts also instantly cascaded in a negative spiral: ‘Why didn’t I hold that tea in the turn’? ‘Why did I spend so much money on a tea’! ‘These things always happen to me.’ My anger and outburst was most definitely NOT parallel to the incident, after all it was just tea. However, I was looking forward to it and felt as if I personally had been wronged by the event. I let out some choice words to express my frustration. And in that moment, a little wise voice from the back seat said:

“I’ts ok mom, at least I didn’t spill.”

I felt like the air was sucked out of me for a split second-like the hypnotist snapped his fingers and I was now alert and aware. I felt instant remorse and humility for my ridiculous outburst and overreaction. Afterall, I am the one who is supposed to have self-regulation, perspective, right? I am supposed to teach him not to “sweat the small stuff” to keep perspective when things go awry, to manage big feelings when they are about small things.

Alas it was him, in his less than a decade of life experience who had to remind me what matters. He didn’t spill.

Some more philosophical than me have said that children choose the parents they need. The idea is that we choose our parents in some spiritual sense based on what we need to learn in this lifetime. I am not sure about all of that- as certainly, there are many examples that don’t seem to fit with this notion-examples of parents not capable of meeting even basic needs to exploiting and abusing children-certainly not something one would choose. But For the sake of reflection, let’s go with this notion for a moment.   Perhaps our children do choose us for what we have to offer and teach them,  perhaps  we are the perfect parent to our child. I think about this awesome responsibility when I am not in a “spilled ice tea regression” and  I wonder:  “Why did he choose me”? With his old soul  thinking, his playful, active self, his dyslexic brain. What is it about his soul that chose mine? What is it that he needs most from me that I am uniquely suited to give?

I also think that this notion of choosing our families can go both ways; Perhaps our children not only seek us out for what they need from us, but also what we need to learn from them. Our children, or at least my child, offers me constant opportunities for my own continued development. Some moments I have felt that my own growth comes at his expense. Mistakes I have made in my parenting that his reaction or presence makes me aware of helps me to grow, but often at a price of hurt or disappointment for him. Hopefully our mistakes also teach our children to be forgiving and to recognize that even people who love us will disappoint from time to time and make mistakes. We can all survive those moments of imperfection, forgive one another, and be a little better for it.

Regardless of what you or I believe about how we end up together- our kids choosing us, a higher power bringing us together, or a random accident of the universe, wise adults have realized for centuries that children are our teachers as much as we are to them. When we are willing to open ourselves to what they offer us-the gift of perspective and growth.

Thanks for cleaning up my spill kid. Now I am going to go hold tight to a tall glass of tea.