If there is one thing I have learned about life it's this: Whatever you think you know, you really don't. And what you don't think you know, well chances are, you really do.
It's just you may not want to admit it. Gut stuff has a way of talking to you even if you claim you aren't listening.
I've spent the last 48 hours with a three year old. I think I'm getting my PhD in a few important lifelessons. Thank God, my three year old niece Kelcy is a patient teacher and that no mater what roadblocks I found, she hung in there for the ride. She's teaching me some really helpful courses.
Three year olds have this way of breaking things down into the simplest of terms. They look at the world from an honest perspective that at times is a bit on the breathtaking side. Other times, her view is a roller coaster of fear, raw emotion and a tenuous tightrope walk of everything in between. Translating this without going into the cliches of the wisdom of babes, the innocence of children, while not getting all weepy eyed isn't the point.
So what is my point?
Well, I'd like to offer that takes a lot of courage to be three. It takes just as much courage to be three as it takes to be 39, uh I mean 40. Also, let's add extra doses of stamina, bravery, and denial to the mix- helpful if not necessary fall backs when one cares for a three year old. Everything becomes simple in its complexity. Yet the simple, can in the shake of three or four seconds, get really damn complex. There are schedules to follow. Nap times, medicine times, owee kissing times, eating times.
In the world of public health there's this term known as "harm reduction". Harm reduction is loosely defined as an awareness that folks are still going to make dumb, ok maybe even really stupid choices, but that doesn't mean they deserve to die for making such silly decisions. So social workers try to give these "at risk" individuals the best tools they can to reduce their risks. Accepting that folks might make dumb choices, I think harm reduction is sort of like throwing a little life preserver to someone who is still going to jump. But you throw the life preserver anyway so that at the end of the day, even if they jump, they haven't blown all their options. The life preserver sort of catches them before it's too too late.
I think that both Kelcy and I are learning all about Harm Reduction in our way. In the case of gay uncle babysitting a three year old, harm reduction is more defined at not sweating the small stuff. Try this sometime. I dare you.
"We" must know how to work the cable system because Thomas the Train and The Wiggles and Dora define must see TV. We must not get bent out of shape when nap time isn't embraced. We must not call 911 when during hide and seek the three year old is not immediately found, and that when we do find her, she is standing smack dab in the middle of the kitty's litter box. We must be able to constantly repeat the last two parts of this Toltec stuff: It's not personal and do the best you can. We must be present while at the same time being removed- because nothing that happens today will permanently scar this child.
WE hope.
I say "we" because all of this is collective. Tim. Kelcy. Working mom Kelli, thirty miles away, on the other side of downtown Seattle. Mom who keeps jumping everytime the phone rings.
I only called my sister at work a few times for help. OK, three. My sister's only called me a few times too.
Ok ten.
The questions aren't all that important. Where is this? Where is that? How do you do this again? Are you sure? Uh what if she won't ________? You can fill in the blanks here, because there are many things that Kelcy suddenly won't do. Stuff I was assured she would do without prompting. Naps. Eating. Taking medicine. Using the restroom without my full undivided attention.
Oh yeah, the bathroom stuff. My sister is really anal about this part of the bonding experience. It seems Kelli is still sensitive about a story I wrote years ago. In that story I related that my step grandmother, a charismatic nut-case Christian zealot if there ever was one, was still praying on my sister's behalf for the gift of potty training.
At five.
"Five Tim?, I mean I couldn't believe I read that. I was so potty trained at five and you know it."
Ok everyone I stand corrected.
Here in my daily blog I would like for the world to know that at the age of FIVE my sister was potty trained. She did not need spiritual intervention. She was actually BORN with the gift of potty training. Kelli was a child prodigy. Like a master, she found her way to the holy throne long before FIVE. She knew all about flushing and wiping and timing AT BIRTH!
O K Kelli? How's that?
Truly my sister has never forgiven me for taking that artistic license. I never meant to harm her. So maybe she was potty trained at 2 or 3 or whatever. But still, I do remember those 30 minute long prayers, when my step grandmother Edna anointed us with holy land oil. For a kid, a prayer like that seemed to take forever. I also remember my step grandmother praying over us trying to get us to speak in tongues and have prophesies and dance in the spirit.
Wait, come to think of it-maybe that's where all this dancing stuff in me went south. Holy criminony, I never thought of that before. It was my step grandmother's misguided intervention-that's what went wrong! No wonder my dancing abilities are all haywire!
So back to the babysitting drill. I've learned a lot from this most precious three year old. As a guy who is into model railroading, or who at least would like to be, I'm really getting into this Thomas the Train stuff. At least as much as Kelcy. I'm also so damn proud the kid likes Hot Wheels, big trucks and Planes.
Yet, Kelcy also has a doll house with all sorts of stuff in it. I mean this doll house is the house of dreams. You just know the pretend family shops at Old Navy, Macy's and watches HG TV. I mean the house even has a loft. A loft I tell you! I don't even have a loft! But then again, not many triple wides have "lofts"? By the way, has anyone ever noticed that toy manufacturer set has never made "doll mobile homes" for retail consumption? I mean seriously, what's up with that? Is it because parents refuse to acknowledge or worse, fear that one day little Ms or Mr perfect child might one day end up with an address that has "villa", "court" or "mobile estates" contained somewhere in it?
I am learning that the world of play is just as serious for parents as it is for adults.
In watching Kelcy as we play, I'm also recognizing something else. Kelcy is very specific about everything. She rearranges her trains, doll house furniture and her other toys with exact precision. Her world is ordered and stuff has its perfect place. I see many traits here that I remind myself not to bring up to my sister who will freak if I do.
Mainly that Kelcy is really a lot like uncle Tim.
Except that these days my life isn't all that ordered. Not much fits into its that exact perfect place anymore. A lot of things aren't fitting into place at all. At least, not even as close to as neatly as they once did. There is chaos, uncertainty and a whole lot of disorder in the universe. In the end, not much really roots us down, or even gives us all that much encouragement that order is coming.
Save one thing.
That's the beauty and the peace of a sleeping three year old.
A three year old who has her head on your chest and who is causing your arm to fall asleep. A three year old who is already potty trained and who has her bunny next to her and who never finished her juice. A three year old who was just telling you about Thomas and Gordon the trains. Before she nodded off, all cuddled up to you. A three year old who has just given you the most important lesson about the universe that you could ever learn: That right now, this moment is all we have. That the breath of a three year old who has found comfort in your presence, as Percy the train rolls off the track, is what matters. That this is not fleeting. This moment, can bring order to chaos forever.
If you let it.
"Every act of conscious learning requires the willingness to suffer aninjury to one's self-esteem. That is why young children, before they areaware of their own self-importance, learn so easily; and why older persons,especially if vain or important, cannot learn at all. " -Thomas Szasz, author, professor of psychiatry (1920- )
Today's links... For those of you who crave music that will set your wanderlust spirit into soar mechanism, heres a great story...
http://www.nytimes.com/2005/04/15/arts/music/15glob.html?th&emc=th
For fans of "Meanwhile Back at the Ranch, here's the latest news on the very interesting Mad Cow Scandal we've been reporting on for months. We continue to advocate that all human bound beef, no matter where its origin-Canadian, US or Mexican, should be tested for this. Only the beef packers refuse to see the wisdom of such a requirment. Maybe now public pressure will force the issue. We can only hope.
http://sympaticomsn.ctv.ca/servlet/ArticleNews/story/CTVNews/1113403014256_108812214?hub=TopStories
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