On The Swirls (And Swirls) Of Being Fully Human

Hey there, Jesse here! I am now blogging over at a new site called Weave In Wonder. It's the place where moms learn how to feel their happiest with meaningful self-care, respectful parenting & fun play ideas. Meet me over there! 

<3

It all started innocent enough. We were painting a tree branch for a process art book club I was hosting that week, and I was feeling so warm and glowy watching them paint together with their dedicated expressions on their faces. I imagined hanging the tree branch in their room as a symbol of their sibling love. Oh, it would be wonderful, I thought.

I stepped in the closet for 12 seconds to search for a bottle of glue. Or what is modpodge? It doesn't really matter now. I came out to find Brother Butterfly swirling his fingers in red paint he'd poured over our rental carpet in four heaping glops. I stood there, stunned and horrified while he dipped his fingers in again and squealed with delight.

Nothing makes me feel fully human like my children do. One minute I'm floating on a cloud of joy, and the next I'm scrubbing red carpets and my own tears.

When I'm in the outside world, I rein in my full humanness much more than I'd like to admit. I sometimes laugh politely at bad jokes, and I also sometimes stifle a loud laugh at a hilarious one. I calmly stand in long lines with one child who is whining in the cart and another who I suspect just licked a mirror, and all I want to do is scream toward the front, "hurry up!" When I feel immense pride about an accomplishment, one I've worked hard at for years, I'll change the subject with a friend. I hold back on telling my Mom how much she means to me when she visits.

Children never hold back their humanness like adults do. They laugh loud at the punchline in hilarious books, and burst into tears at the dentist. They will declare exactly what they are thinking, which might be the truest statement you heard all day, at the most inappropriate time. They'll scream with rage at their brother, "don't you touch my blocks ever again!" and a few minutes later, burst into a fit of giggles over a fart. They'll snuggle up close to you and look you in the eyes with their big brown eyes, without wanting to look away.

It's a marvel the way children let their emotions swirl inside them for as long as they need, until they are done with that emotion. Then they are on to the next. They understand themselves so well when we let them. I'm seeing that the more I let their full humanness be something that is seen as normal, the more whole they appear to me and to themselves.

Is feeling fully human part of what makes childhood feel so magical? Perhaps feeling the full scope of being human as an adult, even if that means crying a little more when I need to, and laughing more when I need to, (and screaming "hurry up!" when I want to) is the key to a magical adulthood?

I'll keep you posted!