To be Loved Alone: Parenting

Tonight has been a rare treasure.  A beautiful evening that has given me a glimpse into parenting that will change the way I mother from now on.  Tonight, my daughter Heidi (17 months) and I had a whole evening, just the two of us. My husband Jeff and my son Dutch (3) took part in a church service project, cleaning up a high school in an area of great poverty.  Dutch marched out the door all seriousness and determination, shod with his rubber work boots and carrying a toy shovel.  He also knew this whole thing included pizza at the end, so he was all in.

Now to be frank, I wasn’t super excited about a long evening at home with my daughter.  She had been horribly whiny and fussy all day.  Any tiny bump from brother sent her into hysterics.  She’d drop a toy and melt into tears.  When I set her down so I could wash dishes, she quit breathing and passed out (more on that here).  So, hmm… a whole night with this little angel? Maybe we could have an early bedtime.

Boy was I wrong.  She was a delight.  I have never seen her so happy.  We blared music and danced around the living room.  She laughed these perfect peels of giggly laughter as she stood by me and bobbed up and down to the music.  We sat on the floor and ate cold, juicy grapes, water and juice dripping down our chins.  We did blow-bellies and took a long bath with bubbles.  At one point she actually crawled up and just laid her head on my chest and cooed.  Who was this little angel?

Perhaps the angel is the girl who just wants to be loved alone.

I experienced something similar with my son Dutch a few weeks back.  Jeff was to accompany a group of 30 middle-schoolers on a youth group trip to Wild Waves, the giant water and theme park up in Washington.  We decided that Dutch and I would join him, and Heidi would have her first slumber party, all by herself, with my parents.

The whole day was amazing.  It was sheer joy for me to have an entire day with no other responsibilities than to pal around with my little man.  We splashed, slid, shrieked and soaked.  We swam in the big pool; Dutch jumped into my arms in the deep end.  He conquered his fears and rode the train, the cars, the boats (twice!), then even mustered up the courage for the teacups (his eyes were as big as teacups!), and even insisted we ride the roller coaster that goes straight through the water (after getting soaked by something akin to a fire-hose, his eyes were huge and he asked, shivering, “Mommy, what was that?” I responded, “That was a roller-coaster, babe.”  “Mommy, why did we do that?”).  He overcame a bunch of fears, held his own with the big kids, and was an obedient, kind, and well-mannered little boy the whole time.  Even at the 6pm, after being up and at ’em for 11 hours straight, instead of whining he just laid down on the grass, pulled a towel over his head, and tried to go to sleep. 🙂  For those of you who have followed my *ahem* challenges with this boy, you know this is a big deal!

These two experiences have me thinking.  Could it be that our children  just desperately want to be loved alone?  To be given time, attention, and love individually. To get mommy all to themselves every once in a while? Undivided attention.  Is that all it takes?

Anne Morrow Lindbergh wrote this in her book Gift From the Sea:

“If only we could have each of our children alone, not just for part of each day, but for part of each month, each year. Would they not be happier, stronger, and in the end more independent because they’re more secure?  Does each child not secretly long for the pure relationship he once had with his mother…when the nursery doors were shut and she was feeding him at her breast–alone?”

I’ve heard before to spend time with each of your children, but have never understood before now just how profound that impact can be. I still remember being 6-years-old and going on a daddy-daughter date with my dad to see Aristocats.  I felt like the princess of the whole world. I still remember him taking me to a minor league baseball game (and that was after I’d graduated college!). It was on that daddy-daughter date that I asked him what he thought of this guy I’d met … whose name was Jeff Patterson.

Those times are profound when children are young. Those times are profound even when they are grown.  Because, is this not what we all, deep down, really crave?

The poet WH Auden wrote these lines:

For the error bred in the bone
Of each woman and each man
Craves what it cannot have,
Not universal love
But to be loved alone.

Don’t we all long for that?  Our worlds are so big. Technology allows so many people into our sphere. What if we narrowed that sphere down, just for a time, to include only one: a child.  If we regularly set aside time for one child–to shower them with the love and attention they are longing for. What would be the result?

I for one am convinced.  The time may not be long, but it will be theirs.  I hope and pray my children grow up and know what it’s like to be loved alone.