Perspective taking – Nice but dim
I remember the festive season when I was small; my family confined together in cozy home with condensation on the window panes. My mother’s expression was one of displeasure with large blotches of annoyance – a message without any other clues. Being clueless, she added words – “why don’t you play in your room!”
“O.k.”
Lots more toys up there.
“What do you think your bedroom is for?”
Sleep?
“Do you think you might do something to help?” Helping seemed like a good idea; I considered myself to be a helpful sort of a child. Given the choice between unhelpful and helpful, I’d definitely opt for helpful; who’d choose the negative? I thought, quite wrongly, that my beaming smile was an indication of willingness and readiness. I should have probably added words to match my demeanor, something like, ‘yes, here I am, awaiting orders.’
“Open your eyes!”
They were already, so I blinked, just to make sure.
“Look at this place! Look at the mess!”
I looked.
There were my toys, quite a lot of them. My little brother’s toys were scattered without any noticeable order – very messy. There was my teenage sister’s paraphernalia; boring stuff with very little entertainment value. My Dad’s papers, books, stamps, albums and equipment were neatly arranged on a small collapsible table, poised in front of his winged backed chair. Next to it was my mother’s winged backed chair, because they were a pair. On and around her chair were masses of bags and boxes, with a side table at arm’s reach. Every surface was piled high with knitting, embroidery, darning, mending, many books on a wide variety of topics, all open, not even stacked – a veritable mountain of mess.
“Shall I tidy it?”
“Yes you will!”
I stood alone in the room for a moment, pondering my mother’s lair. What, if anything, could be squished into something else? It was just as I was jamming the knitting into the basket that my mother returned and squeaked, “mind!” but I was ahead of her, I had no intention of impaling myself on the needles. “What do you think you are doing?”
“Tidying.”
She shooed me away as you would a chicken, flighty creatures renowned for their small brains. “For the last time!”
Last time?
“Will you pick up your toys?”
My toys?
Well why didn’t you just say so in the first place and I might have acquiesced to your unreasonable demand, I’m nothing if not helpful.
It’s my turn now because I’m the mum. I often misjudge – forget. Sometimes it takes me a couple of attempts. It’s usually just when I’m about to blow my stack with exasperation that I remember.
There’s a lot to be said for specificity and logic.
January 11th, 2010 at 12:55 am
I’ve also learned the fine art of breaking things down into specific steps. Although not a guarantee of success (with my boys), it’s a step in the right direction!
January 11th, 2010 at 5:18 am
Ah, the fine art of perspective taking!
I remember times when my mother would say, out of the blue, “Cut it out!” ??? Cut what out? Are you going to cut me? You WANT me to cut something? Talk about confusing! Why didn’t she just say, “stop doing _______”?
And now, it comes full circle. Many times I think I’ve said something, only to find out, it didn’t get verbalized, and of course, not done, but I am frustrated, nonetheless. Then there’s my auditory processing disorder which means, if you don’t write it down, don’t assume I’ll remember it. My dh forgets this all the time.
Perspective, it’s an interesting thing, and always different!
Love your post!
January 11th, 2010 at 6:32 am
Great post! When we remember what it was like to be a child, seems we become MUCH more understanding!
January 11th, 2010 at 1:44 pm
I loved this because it is so true and reminds me of my own childhood. Mothers are the same, universally, and then we turn into our Mums:) Sometimes I think that just because I know what I am saying means that everyone else will too, I forget that I have been mulling it over in my brain for a while and others don’t have the benefit of seeing into my head:) Excellent post:) Jen.
January 12th, 2010 at 3:40 am
My mum and I still have issues about being tidy. My mum likes everything out where she can see it and I like evrything in its place. My sons ( both of them) take after my mother!
You do well to remember not to yell – much better than me. I am only very patient with other people’s children
January 12th, 2010 at 5:22 am
Well you certainly learned how to tell us!
A lot to be said indeed.
Happy New Year, Maddy and family!
Our children love the bowls you made.
January 12th, 2010 at 10:30 am
Hi Maddie,
Is there some saying somewhere that we become our mothers? Once this seemed a dreaded thing (and maybe it still is, a bit). On the other hand, I guess it is a bit of “payback”!
And I haven’t yet wished you a happy new year—so here ’tis—
warm wishes from Kristina
January 13th, 2010 at 1:46 pm
It’s okay to make mistakes and forget stuff, I guess that’s what everyone does. I think that as long as you do your best, you kid’ll think you were the best mum in the world anyways. Kids are good that way.
January 13th, 2010 at 3:03 pm
i often have to say to people “sorry, i haven’t turned on my telepathy yet!”
January 13th, 2010 at 9:23 pm
Thanks for this Maddy. I do this to my son without realizing it. My mom used to bang the dishes loudly to signal to those of us watching TV that she needed help. Never knew why she didn’t just ask.
January 18th, 2010 at 8:15 am
Most of the time I can’t be arsed to ask because it turns into a full scale debate and question and answer session as to why, more important things to do, right in the middle of watching something on telly, and can’t leave this game when I’m winning. It goes on. Easier to do it yourself in my house!!
CJ xx