I still recall the time my daughter was just under a year old, and crawling along the floor at a play group, when she approached a table of some older children to see what they were doing. A little boy, three or four at the time, saw her beneath him, and, seemingly irritated by her presence, kicked her.
I burst into tears, a response that surprised me, and scooped her up, before telling the boy sharply, “You do not kick the baby!”
It’s not my way, usually, to criticize or discipline another person’s child, particularly if that parent is around, but it was a painful moment, not just because I was upset that my baby was kicked, but because it was the moment when I realized that the world and the people in it could be harsh, and that I couldn’t protect my children from getting hurt.
Since that time, I’ve felt the ache of having my heart walk around outside my chest, of seeing my kids get pushed around, ignored or bullied – as I’m sure all parents have - and each time, battled the inclination to shout, to intervene, to criticize. Of course, if my kid was in danger or getting hurt, I would definitely put on my mom gloves and gear up for fight, but short of that, I’ve bit down on the temptation, knowing that part of her growth is learning to stand up for herself.
For those of us who choose to send our children to school or child care, we know that we won’t always be there to supervise everything that happens, and that we have to take a step back and trust the adults who are in charge.
I once received a note from my daughter’s gym teacher, telling me that my daughter was not able to dribble a basketball and had given up trying, which came as no surprise. She’s as physically challenged as me, and a worse sport to boot.
So we picked up a ball and practiced that night.
“It’s not about whether or not you can do it as well as the other kids,” I told her. “To me, to your teacher, what’s important is that you give it your best shot.”
I wasn’t sure she had listened to me – she was still frustrated and cross by the end of the practice. But the next day, a note came home again, telling us that our daughter had put in the effort and applauded us for helping her. It was a great moment, and I was amazed that the cooperation between us and her teacher could have such a positive impact.
More recently, my daughter’s teacher called to ask if we would sign a permission slip for her to join a girls’ group, to develop friendships and bolster her sometimes-lacking confidence.
If I could have shouted ‘Yes’ into the phone any more loudly, I probably would have given her hearing damage. I was so happy and relieved to know that the trust it takes to have my child in someone’s care was being rewarded, that she would be looked after, supported and encouraged to do more, to do better.
I realized many years ago I can’t protect my child all the time. But I am so thankful that I am not in this battle to teach my child skills and confidence on my own, that she is learning this every day from her friends, her family, and her teachers. I see a young girl with a gap in her teeth and a goofy grin and an inquisitive mind, who might be stumbling a bit now, but who will grow into a strong, beautiful, confident woman who has it in her to run the distance, no matter who or what tries to kick her down.
