Each day that I spend with
my children on this great Earth there are a hundred different ways
that I tell them I love them. Speaking the words out loud comes very
naturally to me. “Good morning, my love,” is usually whispered
softly in their ears each morning as I rub my hand gently across
their foreheads and down their cheeks.
Almost daily I tell them I
love them through song. Now, I'm a pathetic singer. In fact, I'm the
person that hums the happy birthday song at parties and silently
mouths our hymns at church for fear of scaring people. My
mother-in-law, however, assured me when my first babies came into
this world that, “You are ridiculous. They do not care if you sing
well. Mothers sing to their
babies.” Point taken.
Little love taps as I walk
by them in their classroom, ruffling their hair while they relax on
the sofa, squeezing next to them on the chaise lounge while gathering
them onto my lap are all tactile expressions of my love. Thankfully
my kids are all young enough to enjoy these moments still. I'm
nervously awaiting the first time I get The Look though, and I am
already careful to rein in this demonstration of love when their
friends are around.
If you have ever read the
book The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman, you know that
everyone feels loved in different ways.
http://www.5lovelanguages.com/resources/books/
Acts of Service is one of my
love languages, meaning that if my husband busts his backside
cleaning up the house he is feeling especially loving that day. I
respond accordingly, usually fulfilling his primarily love
language of Physical Touch. Yes, ladies. Sex is an actual love
language. If it happens to be one of your man's top love languages
they will feel unloved without regular entertainment in the
bedroom. Or shower. Maybe in the hammock, or car...whatever floats
your boat.
Until recently I was not
aware that there is an offshoot of the book entitled The Five Love
Languages of Children. Essentially the same categories of love
are discussed, with importance given to implementing them for small
children. For example, my daughter does not consider my sitting
around the breakfast table with her each morning as Quality Time,
even though I categorize it as such. I'm oftentimes thinking that I
could really, really use a shower right now if I'm going to
get out the door on time and not wear pajamas through the car
drop-off line at school. She is thinking that of course every
other mother on the planet sits at the table with their daughter to
chit chat each morning.
Quite simply, my children
think it is my duty to feed, clothe,
wash and take them places rather than an Act of Service which
deserves appreciation. And in many ways those things are
my duty. The above and beyond is my love. The extra time I spend
preparing healthy
food, clothes washed without harmful
chemicals, or the special trip to the Herb Shop for toothpaste
without fluoride is of
limited importance in their mind. The love note I tuck inside their
lunchbox, the special t-shirt I wash and have ready for Monday
morning however, does get
picked up on their radar. These are called Words of Affirmation and
Gifts. Pure love to most children.
Gifts,
gifts, gifts... it kills my husband that each of my children has a
primary love language of Gifts. (Never mind how much I sometimes wish
that his love language
was Gifts instead of regular hanky panky...) Blame Santa, the Easter
Bunny, and their gift-happy mother but these munchkins of mine do
very much appreciate an unsolicited present from time to time. A
prize for having learned the Star Wars Theme Song on your guitar?
Sure! Here is a Star Wars toy! A dollar tucked into their pocket for
a run to The Dollar Tree simply because I love you and it is raining
out today? Why not!
Does
it have to be your
birthday to get a new box of markers, a packet of Bella Sara
collector cards or a new stuffed animal from the local thrift shop?
Hell no. Not in the Hellenbrand house. Have I created monsters?
Maybe. On some days I would argue yes. On others I would say that I
have some of the most happy and secure children on the block. They
know they are loved. Without a doubt. On good days and bad. When they
are right, and even when they are wrong, they know that I have their
back. That has to be powerful.
Last
night after homework and dinner hour I drove to our local library and
participated in a writer's circle. Somewhat similar to a book club,
there were a dozen writers gathered around tables set up in a large
circle. Books, essays, manuscripts sat open before us. We had all
come prepared to critique each others work.
One
of the pieces we were reviewing was written by a woman originally
from India.
Her
piece was a fictional story about a young lady who had reached the
age where her father wanted to purchase a couple of pieces of
beautiful pottery to commemorate her maturity. It is a cultural
custom to do this, apparently, much in the same way that Catholic
eight year olds are bought rosaries for their First Communion. Or
American children are given a car when they turn sixteen.
In
various places within the text the author inserted a bit of Bengali
terminology. I suggested that the she use a few Bengali passages
within the dialogue between the father and daughter as well. I though
it might be a way to “show, not tell” the love between father and
daughter. (This show, not tell thing is something every writer
strives for and frequently stumbles on) After hearing my idea the
author paused, hummed a bit and gently shook her head. “In my
culture we do not say 'I love you.' Never did my mama tell me she
loves me. She is gone now, but I know she loved me without her ever
saying it. This is the way in India. “
I
feel conflicted hearing this. I wonder if I tell my children too
often
how much I love them. I wonder if deep inside this woman wishes
her
mother had said those three little words “I love you”. Even just
once? But then I remember as a young mother reading about the
importance of teaching children to give and receive love. Marie
Hartwell-Walker has written a beautiful article about this very
topic. http://psychcentral.com/library/id445.html
She
writes, “One of the most important things we can teach our
children, perhaps the
most important thing, is how to be loved and loving. We can't protect
them from the many difficulties, even tragedies, of life. But we can
teach them how to surround themselves with support and love. People
who are loved have people around them to celebrate the good times, to
share life's triumphs, and to manage the rough spots. People who have
solid relationships are seldom lonely and seldom lost -- no matter
how challenging or painful their life's course. People who are loved
have a security deep inside that makes it possible to take risks and
to accept defeats. People who are loved during life die satisfied.”
So...
in the name of growing three satisfied and happy children who feel
strength when they are right and support when they are wrong I am
going to continue flooding my children with love. I will blow them
kisses across the house and wink at them when no one else is looking.
I will bake them cookies on any ole' weekday even if their Daddy
thinks it is silly and should be saved for special occasions. I will
hug them after a temper tantrum and tell them I love them anyway.
Each
morning on our way to school there is a little song I sing as we pull
into the school driveway. It is grossly simple, yet instructive. And
it is wrapped with love. “Seat belts off, backpacks on, and kisses
for your mom.” They haven't missed a day yet.
