"Get that Corn Outta My Face!"

It does not, I’m convinced, occur to little children that putting something 2 inches in front of your nose is rude.  Nor do they find it problematic to continue talking to you while holding said item in front of your face.
                                        Sun, Children Drawing, Image, Drawing
Are you on the phone? Not an issue for a child. This does nothing to prevent them from their task, and they will often speak a little louder, in case the phone conversation is keeping you from hearing the request. 

 On the potty? We’ve discussed this in an earlier post, but suffice it to say that this is actually a preferred position for the prospective listener to be in, for they are cornered and easier to approach while “at their duty”. 

 Correcting another child? Speaking to another human present? Thinking? Cooking? Reading? Sleeping? These are all no problem for children, and in fact your immobility in those moments make you a prime target.


Playmobil, Kitchen, Toys, Play, CookGirl, School, University, Education                     Sleeping, Reading, Woman, Reader, Book

This situation happens more than occasionally to me, though I have continued the anti paper-in-the-face training with this kind of conversation:

Me - “Hey, honeybun, can you move that beautiful picture for a minute?  I just need to finish grading this.  And remember it’s rude to put.....

A child - “ Look at the ladybug I drew and I made a number two all by myself and I like blue and the cloud is big because it’s about to rain. “

Me - “That’s great but I’ll be able to look at it better when you move the paper and I can finish this.  Be patient.”

Sometimes the child will then turn on their heel and begin to walk away, as if the moment is lost and any value on the page expired with my lack of attention.  I quickly call the child back to me and say something like:

“Come back.  (with my hand gently on child’s arm) Now, be patient and as soon as I’m at a good stopping point, I’ll give you my full attention.  Wait here.  It’ll just be a moment.”

No doubt a child who is old enough to notice is thinking: “A good stopping point?  Seemed like a good stopping point when you just stopped to tell me to wait!”

True.

Nevertheless, I believe in the value of delayed gratification.  You know, waiting to get what you want because the outcome is better.  Like, your mother is actually looking at your picture and paying it attention instead of mindlessly mumbling, “Uh huh. So nice.”

Also, there is value in simply being patient when someone is already engaged.  Especially if it involved interacting with someone else before you got there.  Waiting your turn, as it were.  Manners.

Now, let me be clear:  I am not referring to a child with an emergency.  Bleeding, yelling, crying, and rushed information all get my immediate attention!

                                                 Pitbull, Dog, Pet, Animal

(child slides into room talking so fast and breathlessly they are almost unintelligible):
"Mama there's a dog from next door you know the one that is big and it isn't Princess and not the dog from 2 houses down but that other one and it's in the field and the chickens are out and the little kids are out there trying to get the dog not to see the chickens and you better come stop them before that dog sees the chickens!"

But yes.  Delayed gratification, patience, and waiting your turn is good.  And I will continue to teach this to my children and anyone else in my sphere of influence that need reminding of these good things.  (I also can hear what I am saying and I can learn a lot from my own correction!)

In the meantime, I guess will patiently continue to move beautiful things from in front of my face and wait for the gratification of seeing my children exercise these same qualities when it comes to getting my attention for anything else that deserves my undue attention.  Especially beautiful crayon pictures of ladybugs.  

A Touching Metaphorical Tale


I was minding my own business one day when I felt what I believed to be someone tapping my shoulder from behind.  I turned around and saw no one.  “Hmm,” I said to no one in particular, as I shrugged and went back to my work.

A bit later, I again felt a tap on my shoulder, but this time it was more pronounced.  Maybe even forceful.  When I turned around, I saw, to my surprise, someone who looked exceptionally like me, except for a few differences I had never noticed in my own self.


She was my height and had my same hair coloring but with a bit more grey around the temples and sprinkled throughout her long brown locks.  “Definitely an older gal” I thought.  She also had reading glasses on her head, as if she had just used them and slid them up there ready for their next assignment.  “Poor thing.  She can’t even see when she wants to read an article on what the current dress trend is.  She clearly needs to brush up on that info.”
However, because I was feeling automatically friendly toward her, (she looked almost exactly like me after all!) I inquired, “Hello.  Who are you?”

“I’m you,” she replied, “only older.”

“Come again?” I queried.

“Oh yes, silly woman.  You haven’t noticed me, but I’ve been here for some time.  I’m the “Over 40” you,” she said with a slight mocking laugh.

I was perplexed.  At 44 years old and nearing 45, I had noticed a few minor changes, but though this woman seemed the same as me in many ways, she was also too unlike me to BE me.  Wasn’t she?
I wasn’t sure I liked this.  Or her.   Yet.



“Haven’t you noticed that sometime in the last two years or so, you couldn’t refocus far away after spending any time reading?  Don’t you remember you went for your first eye exam EVER and the doc prescribed reading glasses?”

Of course I remembered!  The audacity!  The look-alike went on to imply that just because the glasses currently lived in the bottom of my purse didn’t mean that I didn’t need them.

“And how about those “infections” you had last year?  Remember those?”

Oh!  You mean the UTIs I elegantly received right during two different holiday seasons?  You bet I remembered!  The first time I EVER had one had been last year at Easter and it was followed at Christmas by another excruciating one.
“That was you?” I implored with a rising sense of strong dislike.

“Oh yes, honeybun!”  But there was more.
“You didn’t think that was a coincidence did you?  And what about 3 miscarriages in as many years?  After 7 healthy, no-problem pregnancies and births, you didn’t think “Over 40” had nothing to do with it, did you?”



“Ummm…”

As she continued candidly, my indignation grew, and I told her so.  “What is wrong with you lady?  Do you have some horrid self-hate?  I mean, I am YOU after all, and this seems a little self-defeating!  (What other big words did I learn in freshman psyc to screw this woman down?)  You are self-sabotaging you know?  Why bring this down on me?  I mean You?  I mean Us?”  This conversation was confusing.

“Oh Bonnie, don’t act so put out.  You saw these things happening.  You just ignored them!” she remonstrated.  “You noticed that for the first time in your entire life you had a horrible itching “down there”.  You knew you’d never had a yeast infection before turning 40!  Don’t act so naïve!  Your friends are experiencing all this too, and you’ve all talked about high blood pressure, pre-menopause, hot flashes, thyroid issues, pre-diabetic issues.  C’mon!” she admonished.

I was still skeptical.  “But those are unrelated issues.  And some of my friends are quite a bit older than me, (6 years counts, right?) and some of them have had these issues for a while.  Certainly before turning 40.”  I felt justified and more confident the more I thought about it.

“Sure,” she condescended.  “And none of those issues have escalated after 40, right?  And new issues haven’t surfaced, sometimes with alarming speed, right?”

She had me there.  With growing concern I inquired, “Well what am I, uhhh, are we, going to do about it?”

With a sense of calm and soothing encouragement she replied, “Almost nothing.”

I realized at that moment how I had grown to trust this woman’s judgement.  She seemed so … grown up.  So wise.  I think I even admired her.  So I continued my questions.

“Why aren’t YOU worried?  And doing ‘almost nothing’ sounds really dumb by the way.”


 “Well, you get your symptoms checked out, like when you got treatment for the UTIs, and then you live with the ones that are here to stay, like your saggy arm skin.”  She seemed a little snippy.  “You put up with the occasional lack of bladder control and do less jumping around, coughing, and sneezing without proper “protection” in your undergarments.  And you don’t think there is any need to change your evolved, "matured" opinion about music, movies, and tv programs of our current age do you?

“Heck no!" I replied emphatically.  "There was a day I was into all of those things.  But I was young and stupid then.”  I continued to consider.  “Of course in MY youth,” I reminded her, “those things weren’t so pointless, violent, and lacking in morals.  I mean, entertainment wasn’t perfect, but it was a lot more obvious what was being touted as right and wrong.  The immoral stuff was less graphic and insidious.  We didn’t like that kind of stuff.  But kids today…” I trailed off, as I caught a glimpse of her countenance.  She had a sly smile, and a know-it-all look on her face.

“You do realize you sound like an old person, right?”



“Well aren’t you high and mighty?” I rebuffed.  “YOU are me, too, so I guess you’re putting yourself down!  Ha!”   This was getting tricky.

“Yes, but I’m okay with it,” she replied with a hint of irony.

Slowly, I began to see her point, and I realized that all the things I didn’t like that “Mrs. Over 40” had brought with her, were just part of getting all her glorious confidence and wisdom of experience.  Yes, I dressed for comfort more than style!  (far more practical and accommodating than heels, tight jeans and short skirts) Yes, I hate most of what our culture dishes out, but I’m more discerning and understand WHY it sucks.  Yes, I don’t remember words I want to use in conversation, but my vocabulary has grown to...enable me to…pick out….other words to use in their place!  HA HA!  And Yes, I may sound arrogant to the young (or maybe everyone else!), but I feel very certain that anyone who wants to pick my brain will be rewarded for their efforts because I too have screwed up royally and been stupid, but the difference between me and the ignorant 20-somethings is I have learned from it and already had multiple opportunities to try again and get it right!


(stupid.  sorry, it is.  no wait.  I'm not sorry.)


 So, I made my peace with that amusing, slightly cynical, self-assured middle-aged lady, gave her a grateful hug, and invited her to stay.  She can be completely lacking in sympathy (“Stop your whining about how the kitchen looked before you went to bed!  What do you think, everything will get done everyday?” I heard her tell me yesterday), but she is almost always sincere and she knows a lot of …. (Um, what’s the word?)… stuff.