Wednesday, May 28, 2014

It's Not Neglect

I’m giving myself permission to ignore my children.

I’m not going to ignore true cries for help, and if there’s blood I will definitely come running (blood stains, you know.)  I will respond to requests that include the words “hug,” “catching the bus,” and “make something for Daddy.”  I will also not ignore statements and questions that include the words “milk” and “healthy snack,” as well as “being outside” and “taking Jazz for a walk.”  But outside of that, I plan to ignore my children.

I’m not planning on ignoring them for frivolous gains like catching up on “my shows” or napping, although I would love to do those things.  Rather, I’m going to ignore them for the greater good for all of us: their independence and maturity as individuals and siblings, my sanity and blood pressure, and the creativity in all of us.

I’ve learned slowly not to intervene at the first sound of an argument.  Many times it rights itself before I’ve even entered the room.  I’ve discovered that they make the responsible, caring decision to include instead of exclude, share instead of being selfish, and give repetitive second chances instead of living life as if one incident, behavior, or snappish statement dictates the future of their relationships.  By ignoring them for a few minutes I get a moment to breathe deep, muster patience and decide “how else” I can handle the situation instead of storming their juvenile castle and throwing down my gauntlet of haggard, adult punishments.  Meant to obliterate the problem, they inevitably backfire due to overkill solutions and anxiety-induced anger.  When I ignore the daily outbursts, knee-jerk iPod and TV-focused requests, and calls for help on subjects they clearly already know how to handle themselves, they are forced to find a solution, recommit to finishing the required tasks and step up to complete or accomplish more than they felt they had the energy to do only moments before.  I get a few more minutes to decide if my attention to their request helps or impedes their development.  We all have the chance to discover something new about ourselves, as well as walk away with a sense of pride.

Ignoring my children will give me the opportunity to finish reading the article, page, or chapter that I can become engrossed in.  I can listen to what my husband is telling me, instead of head-nodding and “Uh-huh”ing him and then not remembering what I agreed to do.  I can take the time to enjoy his embrace, not hurry through it to replace it with conflict-resolution and frozen waffle-making.  I will complete the tasks I am caught up in so I don’t come back to them and wonder “Where was I?” or worse, become angry with my children because they took me away from something that now has become a problem:  a pot boiling over on the stove, the dog running out the door un-leashed, my husband’s equally important request for my ear, shoulder or a low-blood sugar necessitated snack.  Ignoring my children gives me back the sense that my needs, and the needs of others around me, are just as important.  It also shows them that their needs, although perceived as paramount in that moment, may need to take a backseat to something else.  It helps to remind them that the other relationships in my life, and my duties, require my attention.  Balance becomes the focus for all of us.

On a completely selfish level, ignoring my children allows me to remember what makes me happy:  reading, writing, sitting in the sun (not to get a tan, but just because I love the feel of the heat on my skin), getting through a grueling workout, working on a jigsaw puzzle, laughing at a stupid TV show, becoming enthralled all over again in the movie moments that defined my youth, and ironically, my children themselves.  By standing back and letting their lives continue around me I can take an avid spectator’s view of their world and their experiences.  I see them becoming the people they will be.  I see them develop a sense of humor, a willful determination, and a heart of gold, each of them having a different sized piece of those characteristics that will help to shape who they are.  I remember who they were as infants, babies, toddlers and preschoolers, and remark on the subtle to drastic changes that they have undergone.  By ignoring my children, I actually keep myself from missing them grow up.

Someday I hope my children look back and take my “ignorance” not for tough love, but for loving love.  I hope they learned that a good book is worth getting lost in.  Puzzles are a great distraction and help to let us see the larger picture in smaller detail, as well as the understanding that every piece is important.  I hope they all discover, and embrace, the writer within them.  I hope they remember less of my snappish moments, and more of my “All right, all right, it’s OK,” moments.  I pray they realize that not just the love of their mother and father, but the love between their mother and father is a part of who they are and how they got here.  I want them to look ahead and realize that their own needs will get lost in someone else’s someday, and that’s OK.  And it’s also OK to bring that focus back to themselves as some point.

But they better not ignore me – ever.

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