On this night my future softball star threw the food and I explained that if she threw any more food, dinner would be over for her and she would go to bed. At that, she stood on her chair, pulled down her potty training underwear and showed me her tiny bum. My two-year-old mooned me.
Earlier in the evening she proclaimed that she had to go potty. We let her go into the bathroom on her own and 2 minutes later Beth checked up on her. Beth found a pile of poo in the middle of the room and a gleeful Emerson exclaiming that she had gone potty and inquiring about her candy reward. The day had started with Bennett holding open the door so that Emerson could go outside. Emerson took an Easter egg still heavy with candy and threw it at Bennett's head.
Last week when I picked up Emerson from daycare her exasperated teacher told me how Emerson needed to go potty but another little girl was occupying the toilet. Rather than wait her turn, Emerson got a cup, filled it with toilet water and poured it on the little girl. The drenched little girl ran off to find a teacher. Emerson hopped on the potty, did her business and looked for a teacher to reward her with candy.
When people ask me about Emerson's personality I tell this story. Bennett was on the floor playing with his toys. Emerson dove into the middle of Ben's play and took his favorite truck. We explained to Ben that she only wanted to play with him. We suggested that he find a truck for Emerson and then teach her to play. When he complied with our instruction, she took her truck and hit Ben in the head with it. When he started to cry, she took both trucks and walked off. This is my youngest child.
We often refer to Emerson as the terrorist who wages jihad against the family. When Ben wants to play with her, he straps on his football helmet and asks the whereabouts of "the terrorist." She is so often referred to as the terrorist that she will respond to the name.
Most of my Emerson stories have an element of humor. If nothing else I can appreciate some of her creative problem solving. I could also tell stories about how unlike her siblings, my baby will still snuggle as long as her parents need. In the middle of her play she will run up, hug our legs, scream "yuv you" and run off just as quickly. She has amazing rhythm and begins dancing as soon as she hears any music. She has a well developed belly laugh and more than anyone else in the family, she will someday be the life of the party. Maybe those don't exasperate me and therefore don't bear repeating in the same way.
At age 24 I was promoted to my first management position. I worked at a fast-paced, highly stressful, pressure-cooker of a research company. The moments before any project began were especially difficult. We often would not have the necessary materials until moments before they were needed. On one such occasion I was working with a part time admin to copy the questionnaires that were needed for a research session. As a questionnaire came off the copy machine, it was stapled and hurriedly delivered to the testing room just in the nick of time. But the admin kept making mistakes. She kept getting pages out of order. She would staple the wrong end of the questionnaire. She would staple a small portion of the questionnaire and leave the rest on the copy machine. I blew up and fired her. Not only did I fire her, I proclaimed her an idiot, told her she was useless and would no longer exist in my world.
I do not admit this easily. I am shamed by those words. I am shamed that I found it acceptable to say that to anyone. She absolutely was not suited to do that type of work. But I let her incompetence in that one situation define her for me. I was wrong. She was also a mom, a wife, a friend, a person. I am haunted by that incident. It was a low point in my humanity. It has shaped the way I manage, the way I conduct performance reviews, the way I treat colleagues. Never again will I define someone by an incident or performance on a particular task.
One day this week I was at my end with Emerson's antics. For one very shameful moment I wondered to myself if we had made a mistake by attempting to parent three children. Even though the thought passed by quickly, it has haunted me every day since. Our family would be incomplete without Emerson. It wouldn't be nearly as good. I wonder if by defining Emerson as one word--terrorist- I have somehow allowed myself to focus on all her negative traits and ignore all the good.
In most business situations I am confident to the point of arrogant. When it comes to friendships I am so insecure that I rarely suggest social activities. I am strictly conservative when it comes to my children's dress. I am left of liberal in most political debates. My sense of humor is irreverent. My faith is the most important relationship in my life. I wouldn't describe myself as arrogant or insecure, irreverent or religious, liberal or conservative. I am a combination. To use one word would be an incomplete description.
When I choose one word or one situation to define someone, I form an incomplete picture of who they are. It allows me to ignore the good and the valuable. I fail to recognize the amazing. I'm going to need a new nickname for Emerson.
3 comments:
When I was a baby I was shy. I was attached to my mother/father/grandma's side. On 2 occasions they left me with a babysitter and I cried-screamed-raised hell so much, that the caretaker in that moment had to go into the sanctuary and remove my mom from church even though she'd "never had to do that before".
At the age of 2 I gave my mother the silent treatment for a week when she went back to work. In junior high I wrote extremely rated R messages in people's yearbooks--had to apologize to their parents and buy them new ones.
I think it's so understandable to describe people--especially children in one adjective-or in Emerson's case-a noun. At an early age, we have one strong characteristic, but then we start developing more and turn into massive complex characteristic blobs. I will think of Emerson at 30 standing her ground, doing what she believes in, and standing up for what's right...and the girl at the party that will liven it up! As for me...I still can't get enough of my family, although I do enjoy moments alone now. And although I'm not spray painting "boobs" on Chicago buildings, I always want to be on the side of the room where someone is saying something hilariously inappropriate....and I don't think anyone has described me as shy in about 25 years.
You make me remember so many stories -- so many inappropriate and premature categorizations of my children. One particular family member was absolutely vicious in "dooming" my children by defining them via one moment in their little lives. Somehow they overcame it all to be women of whom I'm so proud. I want to know and be known by all three of your children in the future. I can't wait to see how they better our world.
In my many years of working with children - many of whom have been as spirited as Emerson - I have always told parents to relish in the exasperating traits they see in their children. They are often the things that, tempered by time and maturity, are going to make them interesting, successful and fascinating adults. Part of it comes from within - how they are wired. The majority comes from the people around them. For Emerson - and her siblings - this bodes very well. Your children are very lucky to have such wise parents.
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