"Yours, Mine, and Ours"
This is the title of a bulletin board group on Babycenter.com. I frequent a few of the other boards, like "Attachment Parenting," "Progressive Christian Families," and "Extended Breastfeeing," and I always saw the title to "Yours, Mine, and Ours" and assumed it was a board about teaching your child to share. It turns out it is a board for "blended" families, but my assumption reveals the struggles of our household recently.
Grace has begun taking toys away from Natalie, who has begun grabbing every toy within 2 feet of her as though her life depended on it, and so it is a bad combination. When friends come over, Grace doesn't want them to play with "her" toys. "Mine" is a word heard often in our home. I thought it would be different with my kids. I thought my loving, warm, sharing approach to parenting would give them a sense of security and would prevent them from looking for identity in material things. Pipe dream, my friends.
My friend Shawna and I have discussed trying to raise our kids where they don't feel that anything is actually theirs--that the things in our home are communal and that we are stewards of them. Then my mom reminded me that developmentally, people need to understand possession before they can understand sharing. So we are doing the "your turn for one minute, then it's Natalie's turn" thing with some modest success.
Then all of the sudden, the other night I was reminded that sharing is about so much more than your turn and my turn. A shared experience can deepen the happy effect of that experience simply because you were not the only witness.
We were walking out of Target at 7:00 pm (yes, I know, I am one of those bad moms who brings her kids at melt-down hour to the store, filling them full of goldfish to keep them from screaming while I dash madly down the isles looking for toilet bowl cleaner). As we walked out of the store, a storm was brewing in the air. The clouds were streaked with pink and magenta bands as the sun was setting, but it was breezy and humid at the same time. I saw the setting sun lighting up Saddleback Mountain, and pointed to it, saying, "Look, Grace! Our mountain is lit up!" She looked up and her eyes widened as she smiled and gasped. There was a huge rainbow in the sky--bigger and brighter and longer than any I had every seen. It sprang up out of the mountain, hooked over the parking lot, and descended to the ground somewhere south of us. "Wain-bow!" Grace shouted at the 14 year-old hipster kid walking 10 feet in front of her mother as they left the store. The eye-liner and low-waisted jeans-clad 14 year old cracked her sullen expression long enough to make a face of wonder eerily like my own 2 year old's. She turned to her mother and said, "Look, Mom," and pointed to the sky. A Target employee points south and says "Lightening!" Sure enough, we hear the thunder a few seconds later and then see more flashing--right underneath the rainbow.
God shares beauty with me; I share it with Grace, Grace shares with the too-cool 14 year-old, who shares something amazing with her own mom who she probably hasn't shared anything with in 12 months. Somewhat of an eclectic spiritual community began to form in the Target parking lot that evening, everyone ooh-ing and aah-ing and sharing their wonder with others walking up to the store on their cell phones who had to say "Hang on...you wouldn't believe this rainbow!" to the person on the other end of the line.
It began to rain and everyone dashed to their cars, the moment gone. As I pulled into the driveway of our home minutes later, Scott ran out to meet us. We were 30 minutes late getting home and he had begun to worry, especially since we had company coming and it was bed time and it was weird that I wasn't already home. Perhaps the storm was getting to him, too. We tried to tell him about the rainbow. Grace appropriately parroted my conclusion, saying, "God gave us a wain-bow, Daddy!" Scott said, “Really? That’s great. Help me unload the car, Grace.” Scott was impressed, but distracted with the reality of our friends coming over and bedtime looming. Plus there was that pouring rain and lightening making us all on edge. I felt a sense of sadness that he hadn’t seen it and couldn’t share it with us.
It wasn't until an hour later, our friends Kathy and Seth happily ensconced in our kitchen window seat sipping Chardonnay, Scott chopping cauliflower, and me marinating the salmon that I mentioned the rainbow again, excitedly telling them how beautiful it was. Kathy exclaimed, "You saw it too? You saw our rainbow? Seth and I couldn't believe how beautiful it was, with the lightening..." I turned back to the salmon as she told her own description of seeing the vision from highway 5 and watching other drivers crane their necks to see it too. It seems this gift from God was "yours, mine, and ours," after all.
Grace has begun taking toys away from Natalie, who has begun grabbing every toy within 2 feet of her as though her life depended on it, and so it is a bad combination. When friends come over, Grace doesn't want them to play with "her" toys. "Mine" is a word heard often in our home. I thought it would be different with my kids. I thought my loving, warm, sharing approach to parenting would give them a sense of security and would prevent them from looking for identity in material things. Pipe dream, my friends.
My friend Shawna and I have discussed trying to raise our kids where they don't feel that anything is actually theirs--that the things in our home are communal and that we are stewards of them. Then my mom reminded me that developmentally, people need to understand possession before they can understand sharing. So we are doing the "your turn for one minute, then it's Natalie's turn" thing with some modest success.
Then all of the sudden, the other night I was reminded that sharing is about so much more than your turn and my turn. A shared experience can deepen the happy effect of that experience simply because you were not the only witness.
We were walking out of Target at 7:00 pm (yes, I know, I am one of those bad moms who brings her kids at melt-down hour to the store, filling them full of goldfish to keep them from screaming while I dash madly down the isles looking for toilet bowl cleaner). As we walked out of the store, a storm was brewing in the air. The clouds were streaked with pink and magenta bands as the sun was setting, but it was breezy and humid at the same time. I saw the setting sun lighting up Saddleback Mountain, and pointed to it, saying, "Look, Grace! Our mountain is lit up!" She looked up and her eyes widened as she smiled and gasped. There was a huge rainbow in the sky--bigger and brighter and longer than any I had every seen. It sprang up out of the mountain, hooked over the parking lot, and descended to the ground somewhere south of us. "Wain-bow!" Grace shouted at the 14 year-old hipster kid walking 10 feet in front of her mother as they left the store. The eye-liner and low-waisted jeans-clad 14 year old cracked her sullen expression long enough to make a face of wonder eerily like my own 2 year old's. She turned to her mother and said, "Look, Mom," and pointed to the sky. A Target employee points south and says "Lightening!" Sure enough, we hear the thunder a few seconds later and then see more flashing--right underneath the rainbow.
God shares beauty with me; I share it with Grace, Grace shares with the too-cool 14 year-old, who shares something amazing with her own mom who she probably hasn't shared anything with in 12 months. Somewhat of an eclectic spiritual community began to form in the Target parking lot that evening, everyone ooh-ing and aah-ing and sharing their wonder with others walking up to the store on their cell phones who had to say "Hang on...you wouldn't believe this rainbow!" to the person on the other end of the line.
It began to rain and everyone dashed to their cars, the moment gone. As I pulled into the driveway of our home minutes later, Scott ran out to meet us. We were 30 minutes late getting home and he had begun to worry, especially since we had company coming and it was bed time and it was weird that I wasn't already home. Perhaps the storm was getting to him, too. We tried to tell him about the rainbow. Grace appropriately parroted my conclusion, saying, "God gave us a wain-bow, Daddy!" Scott said, “Really? That’s great. Help me unload the car, Grace.” Scott was impressed, but distracted with the reality of our friends coming over and bedtime looming. Plus there was that pouring rain and lightening making us all on edge. I felt a sense of sadness that he hadn’t seen it and couldn’t share it with us.
It wasn't until an hour later, our friends Kathy and Seth happily ensconced in our kitchen window seat sipping Chardonnay, Scott chopping cauliflower, and me marinating the salmon that I mentioned the rainbow again, excitedly telling them how beautiful it was. Kathy exclaimed, "You saw it too? You saw our rainbow? Seth and I couldn't believe how beautiful it was, with the lightening..." I turned back to the salmon as she told her own description of seeing the vision from highway 5 and watching other drivers crane their necks to see it too. It seems this gift from God was "yours, mine, and ours," after all.
posted by Sarah at 3:02 PM
3 Comments:
Wow! Your thoughts are always so profound. The concept of sharing is difficult, because it is in our nature to covet. But I have also seen your daughter perform random and spontaneous acts of generosity. So maybe Grace is yours (scott and sarah's), Mine (God's), and ours (the world's). Your thinking is so profound, and I love how you describe the beauty in the world you see.
very well said.
i know very little about parenting, but i really should stop prefacing my comments to you with that. but anyway, so, in my limited experience with this stuff, it seems like children in grace's boat don't necessarily grasp sharing. they just do it. either because they're told to, or because something innate makes them do it - for example, grace sharing the rainbow experience was so pure and raw - nothing told her to share that, but it was so great that she wanted to spread it around.
in my life lately, all roads lead to how evil capitalism is. so, thinking more about sharing after this morning's episode with my/grace's/your/our bagel, i have to say that sharing is somewhat of a paradox in our society's parenting. many parents live their lives trying to be protective of their ideas, their capital, etc. looking out for numero uno. this is a side effect of capitalism - advancement of society wherein the hardworking and entrepreneurial individual gains. i made that up and it might not be accurate. but anyway, where was it.
the problem is that we focus more on the individual. our 401(k)s over the welfare program. our wait at the doctor's office over the health of a child born to poverty. our shiny new car over public transit or energy conservation. our chance at being assigned to the big project at work over someone else landing the opporunity.
the problem is, we then turn around and expect our kids to think differently. let so-and-so play with that toy because it will make them happy. our kids may not be onto us, but they're certainly not getting a genuine lesson, and gradually this system will break down. the children will be driving the shinier cars with the bigger 401ks and the competitive jobs.
sarah, i think that your open and genuine love for others is going to get you far as a mother. i disagree - those are not pipe dreams.
children that share well might not even be genuine share-rs. they're just obedient. somebody told them to share, so they share. grace sharing the rainbow? that's not obedience. that's pure socialism :-).
you guys are totally on the right track. i'm certainly happy to only have a little of our bagel along the way. grace is going to grow up to be a wonderful, loving, awe-filled child and person. sure, she might not be obedient every waking hour, but neither am i.
love to you all. it was so nice to see you guys one last time this morning before you headed back home.
this got long. sorry :-).
Thanks, Michelle. Julia, I agree that we far too often model ownership and seldom model sharing. I thought about this the other day when Grace wouldn't share a toy with another kid but right afterwards, I wouldn't "share" my drink with her (it was coffee). She doesn't know why I didn't share it but she knows that I have the power to not share. That is a powerful example to her about ownership that I'm not so sure I want her learning...
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