Making a (joyful) fuss over my kids
Some people say that the older they get, the more they act like their mother.
This may be true of me.
What is even more true, though, is that the older I get, the more I want to be like my mother.
As a mother of soon-to-be four children, I think about child-rearing a lot: what works, what doesn't, how to respond to each of my children as individuals, how to manage the collective chaos (and din) they create. Often memories from my own childhood creep up and I try to emulate the many generous ways my mom made me feel special.
One of those was through celebrations. Mom and Dad have hosting down to an art. Is it because they are incredibly organized? Have a perfectly decorated or perpetually clean home? No, no, and no. What they do have, however, is a lot of warmth, a huge spread of food, and a sense of humour about themselves. That, and my Dad doesn't get off his feet until the company leaves, even if that means getting up at the crack of dawn to put a turkey with all the fixin's on and keeping at it until 7 or 8 PM.
So growing up, we had Halloween parties, Valentine's Day bashes, St. Patrick's Day parties, besides gatherings for the more obvious main holidays of Christmas and Easter.
I loved the parties my parents hosted. They always made me feel special, and I was proud that would seemingly drop everything so I could have a bunch of my friends over.
So this is something Patrick and I have adopted for our children. We like having kids over. We don't regret shelling out a bunch of money on treats and decorations to give our children a fun experience, and for those of their friends.
While I do sometimes struggle with the tension between keeping things simple -- a value we hold dearly -- and celebrating in style, which can be costly, I lean towards the side the side of excitement. Of hosting. Of making our kids feel special.
Again, this is in part because I like it.
Usually when Christmas is over, and the reality of truly winter-winter sets in, I begin dreaming up plans for the boys' spring birthdays. It actually gives me a lot of concrete hope -- yes, spring will come, yes there are things worth celebrating, and let's distract ourselves while chatting about these party ideas. Birthday party "themes" emerge around this time (I use quotation marks because anyone who spends even a little bit of time online know just how intense birthday parties can be; some moms spare no expense in both time and money hosting parties even for children so little that they will never remember the event).
Just today I was cutting out some bristol board decorations when Noah asked if he could help. I agreed and he was so delighted to roll up wads of masking tape to help me hang up my modest creations. He looked up at me and said, simply and sincerely, "thanks, Mommy." Just two words, but to me they communicate precisely why I bother; I want my children to feel special. I want them to feel seen. I want them to think they are worth making a fuss over. Especially because there are (almost) four of them, I hope they understand that they aren't simply members of A Family, but wonderful unique people that I treasure.
It may be a superficial way of letting them know that. Yet if my childhood is a reflection on how theirs will be, it is a memorable way of letting them know they are loved.
This may be true of me.
What is even more true, though, is that the older I get, the more I want to be like my mother.
 |
| Mom in her element |
As a mother of soon-to-be four children, I think about child-rearing a lot: what works, what doesn't, how to respond to each of my children as individuals, how to manage the collective chaos (and din) they create. Often memories from my own childhood creep up and I try to emulate the many generous ways my mom made me feel special.
One of those was through celebrations. Mom and Dad have hosting down to an art. Is it because they are incredibly organized? Have a perfectly decorated or perpetually clean home? No, no, and no. What they do have, however, is a lot of warmth, a huge spread of food, and a sense of humour about themselves. That, and my Dad doesn't get off his feet until the company leaves, even if that means getting up at the crack of dawn to put a turkey with all the fixin's on and keeping at it until 7 or 8 PM.
 |
| Dad mixing up his famous Caesar salad before Noah's First Communion reception. Did I mention he also made all 50+ hamburger patties, too? And then managed the grill himself the whole time?! |
So growing up, we had Halloween parties, Valentine's Day bashes, St. Patrick's Day parties, besides gatherings for the more obvious main holidays of Christmas and Easter.
I loved the parties my parents hosted. They always made me feel special, and I was proud that would seemingly drop everything so I could have a bunch of my friends over.
So this is something Patrick and I have adopted for our children. We like having kids over. We don't regret shelling out a bunch of money on treats and decorations to give our children a fun experience, and for those of their friends.
While I do sometimes struggle with the tension between keeping things simple -- a value we hold dearly -- and celebrating in style, which can be costly, I lean towards the side the side of excitement. Of hosting. Of making our kids feel special.
Again, this is in part because I like it.
Usually when Christmas is over, and the reality of truly winter-winter sets in, I begin dreaming up plans for the boys' spring birthdays. It actually gives me a lot of concrete hope -- yes, spring will come, yes there are things worth celebrating, and let's distract ourselves while chatting about these party ideas. Birthday party "themes" emerge around this time (I use quotation marks because anyone who spends even a little bit of time online know just how intense birthday parties can be; some moms spare no expense in both time and money hosting parties even for children so little that they will never remember the event).
Just today I was cutting out some bristol board decorations when Noah asked if he could help. I agreed and he was so delighted to roll up wads of masking tape to help me hang up my modest creations. He looked up at me and said, simply and sincerely, "thanks, Mommy." Just two words, but to me they communicate precisely why I bother; I want my children to feel special. I want them to feel seen. I want them to think they are worth making a fuss over. Especially because there are (almost) four of them, I hope they understand that they aren't simply members of A Family, but wonderful unique people that I treasure.
It may be a superficial way of letting them know that. Yet if my childhood is a reflection on how theirs will be, it is a memorable way of letting them know they are loved.
An inspiring post!!
ReplyDelete