Until about three weeks ago, I have gone to The Clean Eating Kids school for lunch at 10:20 am, once a week, since the beginning of the school year.
Well the routine was about to change.
The reason? All the kids sitting at the table were drooling over a treat I had packed The Clean Eating Kid. I felt bad, spoke up for the polite onlookers and made her share her trail mix.
The Clean Eating Kid lashed out at me verbally, during lunch, in front of her friends. The menacing glare gleaming from her precious brown eyes!
The words that came out of her mouth with such void and disgust over something so frivolous as sharing.
I thought we had gotten passed the “I don’t want to share” stage when we said good-bye to the toddler years.
As someone that is on the path of emotional healing, I felt violated. As a result, I lingered on that moment the ENTIRE day.
As I replayed that event, which transpired in the cafeteria, over and over in my mind, I realized I had once done something very similar to my own mother.
(Except I had used a very colorful four letter word)
I soon realized it had NOTHING to do with trail mix, or sharing for that matter.
The Clean Eating Kid must of been feeling the way I had felt the very moment that four letter word inadvertently exited the crevice in between my nose and jaw:
Violated. Overwhelmed. Disappointed.
By being frequently present, i was inhibiting the development of: confidence exuding, having a time of solidarity with friends, learning tips and tricks on how to get your parent to pack that extra treat, laughing and being unguarded among ones peers.
I was guilty, just as my mother had been been, of GIVING MY DAUGHTER LIFE, and NOT LETTING HER LIVE IT.
I was selfishly spending time with her. I never once thought that I would be invading her space. I am her mother after all. Copyright owner of every moment in The Clean Eating Kids Life, right? Lol.
I had all the best of intentions, but failed to link the symbolic gesture of the umbilical cutting at birth; as a visual representation of allowing my child to live the life SHE was meant to live, through a culmination of her own experiences.
Again.
Inspired by The Clean Eating Kid.
So thankful that I did not react in the moment of impact, but rather think the situation through, for both our sakes.
Now rather that focusing on the fact that I’m not there, I take the time to be mentally and physically present in every moment she decides to tell me about. Savoring every detail and knowing that I have given her control of that moment by allowing me to relive it through her perspective.
The Clean Eating Kid 