Watching the determination of my small children is at the same time frustrating and amazing. Were they not so hard-headed, they would never crawl, walk, put on their own clothes, feed themselves—none of that! And although their persistence in doing it “their” way drives me bonkers at least once a day….ok, at least a dozen times a day, when I see how fast they develop into independent little munchkins, it’s awe-inspiring. I just have to suck in some air, count to ten or twenty…or thirty, and patiently wait while I let them stumble along the way to figuring it out for themselves.
The pics here today are proof that my patience is needed if the people in my life are going to grow to their full potential. Amelia has been learning how to maneuver the exersaucer and get the lion in her mouth as well as turn the monkey wheel.
Wyatt has decorated his first cake—it’s not how I would’ve done it and, in fact, it looks pretty disgusting to me since I know he licked his fingers after putting on each M&M, but he was very proud of doing it himself. And although Emerson isn’t pictured, he’s having to learn to be happy without mommy holding him and walking him around all day long. He’s the star today because after naptime today, he was the proud owner of a new tooth.
The last picture of my rose bush spoke to me today as an example of what happens with patience, care, and the right environment. When we lived in Denham at Doug’s paternal grandmother’s old house, under the backyard oak tree, there was this scraggly little rose bush that looked more like blackberry brambles or weed briars since it had been continuously mowed down by former tenants (and by my husband). Despite the way it was treated, it was a tenacious plant that always managed to keep coming back. So, knowing it was an old rose of his grandmother’s, I decided to stop Doug from mowing it down and let it grow. Passing down plants through the generations to my children just seems like such a neat idea to me.
During the three years we spent there, the bush bloomed only one single blossom, but I chalked that to up to it not getting enough sun where it was. When we moved up here to Watson, I made sure to dig up part of it and plop it in the ground next to a trellis in one of the sunny parts of the yard. After one whole year, the bush was HUGE, stretching up more than double my height and encroaching several feet into the yard. But still, it didn’t bloom more than a couple blossoms. Most people would’ve dug it up and planted something else. I left it.
It is now 2 years since I planted this rose, and just last month, it started setting blossom after blossom. What I feared was just a “dud” rose bush is a fabulous, old fairy rose—the bush has dozens of unopened blossoms just beginning to pop open and grace my yard with their beauty.
Had I not been patient—two years patient—had I not provided the proper environment for its growth, had I not cared for it, I wouldn’t be blessed with this beautiful plant in my yard. When I looked at Wyatt standing by it today, I couldn’t help but think how I need to be patient, provide him, Emerson, and Amelia with the proper environment, care for them…..and wait, allowing them to mature and grow at their own rates, in their own time. I shouldn’t get worked up over growth curves and percentages and lists of “what your child should be doing” at this and that age.
They, too, will bloom when they are ready.