happiness

Day 7

| Rohana Aisha Dewfall

Home. Though it won’t be for much longer. It’s bittersweet, because we have some wonderful relationships here, and yet, I met an old friend who asked about it today and I heard myself saying, I am so ready for the change. I am ready to give my kids a new start, and ready for new adventures, new spaces to explore, and new memories to be made.

Home after a day trip away. Home to boxes, home to play, home to our safe space of blankets and cuddles, and rest.

We said goodbye to H who drove back to work for the week, and I took the kids to the park; with promises of a stop of the pub for chips and some time at the playpark in the pub garden. Unfortunately, the garden area was shut for renovations and so I had the uncomfortable experience of breaking my promise to the kids – who didn’t want chips if they couldn’t slide and climb too – and consoling K, who’s just over 2 and a half years old now, and very vocal when he feels upset or let down. It wasn’t fun. Though heading back to the smaller park and getting snacks helped, it brought up conversations about being disappointed, feeling like things aren’t fair, and not understanding why we can’t always do what we want. Life lessons from a failed pub park outing… entirely unintentional but serving a purpose nonetheless.

Promises and kids are such an interesting topic. Bluey covers it so well in the promises episode, and though there’s lots of comedy, it really has struck a cord with my kids so when we talk about promises, they bring it up. That said, today was a bit different, because, bar K who was just upset, the older 2 understood that it wasn’t me breaking a promise on purpose, and that actually, it was a situation out of my control. A said to K afterwards, “I am sad too, I wanted to play there, but we can go another day” … and of course, coming from his sister, K understood that better than my attempts to explain or empathise with him. Kids do just get it don’t they?

P mostly just reverted into his game world, and the rest of the day went relatively smoothly actually, other than the increasingly late bedtime they have got comfortable with, that leaves me typing at 8 minutes to midnight! I don’t mind though, later bedtime means later waking, and I find they sleep more deeply like that, so though it isn’t always possible, I find it quite ideal. I’ll get up and have a while to myself in the morning, and my days always go better when I manage that! P is still up, watching The Green Planet as his way of calming to sleep. We haven’t had a lot of cuddles today because he’s been in his head playing contently, and though I don’t often just leave him to it entirely, today he’s given me the impression that he wanted some space. Tomorrow I’ll check back in a little deeper, and make sure we can do something together for a short while.

There’s often a kind of guilt surrounding that, when I leave him to play or don’t actively seek out time together; because I know I am stretched on time, and adding baby dragon will stretch us even further. Yet, the guilt has changed this past year… there is more grace and acceptance now. Perhaps as he’s got older, I feel more connected to him when we do play, and I adore listening to him tell me about things he knows to build his confidence. This morning he told me lots about Mount Kilimanjaro, after asking me to google what the word actually means. He has become fascinated with words recently, so I am curious to see where this leads. Either way, it was fun, and though we haven’t had lots of physical cuddly connection, we have had some. That’s enough today. I remind myself that what will be will be; and as I do, I look at my tattoo and think about how I didn’t realise just how powerful it would be when I chose it.

Anyway, for tonight that’s my snapshot of life. I have some plans to share intentions and dreams, and my birthing plan in the coming days; but I won’t make any promises, because if I learned anything today, it’s that sometimes things aren’t in my control.

I’ll see you tomorrow,

With love,

R x

Do our Children Owe us their happiness?

| Rohana Aisha Dewfall

When we have kids, we don’t think of them and say “I hope they grown up miserable” or wish them miserable years. We wish them happiness, love, good things.

But outside of this aloof wishing process, what does it mean, to wish our children’s happiness? Is it about them, or about us?

I started thinking about this years ago, when I watched a series called This is Us, and the father Jack says he just wants his kids to be “okay” – not fancy or fantastic at anything, but “okay”. In the series, they all have dramatic lives and lots of ups and downs. It’s a fantastic show, for more than just this reference point.

This idea of okayness, versus happiness, versus anything else we’d want for our kids has stayed with me. As I completed our home ed log for this month, reflecting on what we’ve done and not done, things that have happened and feelings that have come up, I thought about happiness again. Do we want our kids to be happy because it reflects on us as good parents? Do we find their emotions, outside of joy, excitement and happiness so uncomfortable that we are willing to do anything to avoid them?

When our kids are upset, they cry. They feel. Often, they may even make a show of it; and then, as if by magic, especially in the younger years, they are done. This is because they allow their feelings to travel through them, to the point where they are no longer dominating their whole being. It can be sped up when we validate them, even if it might escalate things first. It is healing to hear that someone understands that the broken banana or melted ice cream is a valid thing to be upset about; because really these are the big things for our children. They are the things that matter to them, in their world, at this very moment. When their grown ups, or even a sibling or friend see this, and help them feel heard, it means they can process and allow the feelings to travel so much faster.

Yet, so much of the time, we hush it. We dismiss the silly upsets. We tell them to get over it. We don’t see them, or hear how big it is. Because in our world, a broken banana tastes the same and melted ice cream is what you get for taking so long to eat it. In our world, bills and shopping lists and who’s going to make lunch for the beach, medical appointments and insurance paperwork are all far more important than a banana split in half.

But deeper than that; it’s also really uncomfortable to see our kids upset right?

It’s uncomfortable to sit with, or to witness their emotional outbursts; probably because the little versions of us, were never allowed to do it. We were dismissed. Walked away from when tantruming. Told to come back when we would stop whining. Given silent treatments. Or worse, given something to really cry about. Many of us grew up, in all different walks of life, with the same underlying message; feelings of sadness and anger and anything that wasn’t pretty, were not acceptable or lovable. So, to protect ourselves, we buried them.

Now our kids feel it all and we are panicking because we don’t have the tools to navigate through these emotions. So we want to keep our kids happy. Because happy feels safe.

Happy feels comfortable.

Happy means we don’t have to face the discomfort that the more despairing feelings bring.

So when we say, we want our kids to be happy; its a point of thought to consider that this happiness, though of course is us wishing them well, is possibly also a protective mechanism for us. Their happiness is safe. When about us though, it is also selfish.

Though we may want the best for them, we cannot protect them from everything. Just as we have felt hurts and losses and sadness, and possibly struggled through our teenage and adult lives to find tools and techniques that help us cope. Tools that allow us to either feel and resolve, or suppress and forget, so that we can navigate the world without being all consumed in tantrum or rage or floods of tears every time we are triggered. We have had to learn these for ourselves, sometimes with significant time and money spent to do so.

If we take the time, not to wish our kids happiness; but to wish them wholeness instead. If we validate them, co-regulate with them, resource them with tools that will create a bigger balance in their lives, not only at 3 and 5 where they sing a song to breathe and calm down, but when their 15 and panicking over exams or friendship fights, and when their 25 and need to pay rent and buy food and figuring out all the big (sometimes scary), overwhelming things that come as they grow. And when their 50, and 60 and 70 with kids and grandkids of their own.

If we resource our children, to navigate sadness and angry and overwhelm; as well as celebrate being happy and excited, not only are we serving them; we are serving every generation after. We are creating a change that will ripple down our family lines.

Even though, it is uncomfortable to witness our children when they are not happy. It is my opinion that they do not owe us their happiness. Instead, we owe them, the chance to feel it all.

As ever, thanks for reading.

P.S. You are amazing.