Because Because

This is an old post. I kind of forgot about it for awhile. Last week, visiting our old haunts and watching what seems like an ever growing force of social entropy unfold, I realized even more that the work that my parents did was hard and nessary work. I thought I invented the phrase social entropy, but apprently, I didn't. Interestingly enough, Wikipedia's definition of anomie, the peak of social entropy, contained the phrase "absence of legitimate aspirations," which, needless to say, is fairly common in the Philadelphia area.

Here's the old post (I never did really finish the poem at the end and the milestones are circa last September):

Something about having kids makes you realize that your parents were right. Rules, order, and discipline, and parenting in general, have a whole new meaning when it's you who is responsible for enforcing them.

When I was a kid (and a teen, and a 20er), I was sure that I'd be a "rational" parent. Discussing things with my children to avoid being a tyrant. Just last week, I found myself talking to a friend who has a toddler and a pre-schooler. In her words, "I used to didn't like 'because I said so,'" she explained while trying to get her pre-schooler to finish dinner and go to bed without making a juice-food mixture, "But 'because I said so' is sounding kinda good right about now."  In my pre-parent mind, those kind of words were only uttered by merciless authoritarian dictators and my dad. AK and I do hope that AC will develop a firm, grounded sense of judgement, but until he does, I've come to accept that because will just have to do.

On the way home from New Jersey last month, there was a 4 year old whose mother was encouraging her to take a nap. The girl (loudly) "why"ed her mom for the whole 2 hour flight, coming up with new and interesting ways to thwart her nap. Her banter reminded me of a sign that used to hang in Swarthmore that said "Question Everything." I would come to learn that this was a mantra for many forms of passive agressiveness. A more honest kid might have just been straight forward and said: Look. I'm not taking a nap, so please continue to discuss the minutia of my existance while I willfully and happily disregard your request. I think the whole plane was wishing she had pulled out her "because" and spareded us all.

AC has started asking questions. He only has a few now, mostly he asks for things he wants and he asks what things are. Still, I know it's only a matter of time before these what's turn to why's. He's already started developing tactics for getting his way, so inshaa Allah, most of his why's will not be of the "um... I'm not doing that" variety. May Allah grant him wisdom and judgement upon truth. Ameen.

He's already established what I call a "why cry." Often used to show his dissapointment, he reserves this particularly sorrowful plea for times such as when I let him carry the Nutella from the store to the car. He had picked it up out of the bag and walked the whole way chanting "get some, yes, get some." Since I don't speak todder, I was at a loss for the words to explain to him that I had no intention of giving him any Nutella in the car or ever. Once we got to the car, he realized my dastardly intentions as I put the Nutella on the front seat and him in the back. Perhaps it's a hold over from my pre-parenting sense of justice, but as he began screaming at the top of his lungs, I almost did feel like I should give him some Nutella since he had carried it all the way to the car for me. Why can't AC eat Nutella in the car, or ever? I did debate the finer points of this question for all of 30 seconds before I realized the answer. Because.

His potty training has progressed well and he's discovered that he can ask to go to the bathroom whenever he wants and I will usually oblige him. He likes to ask mostly when vegetables are being served. One particularly peeful morning, he asked to go 6 times in a row before I realized that I had been roped into a game and finally learned to say "no potty." I am sure that in a few months as his verbal skills progress, that conversation will have to end in a "because I said so."

I've seen some parents use the "why" themselves in a futile attempt to express their own severe displeasure with their children's actions. The "why would you..." which actually means "If you weren't so small and fragile and devoid of reason, I would punch you in the chest for that." I have been guilty of these thoughts myself. Why would you throw up all over the sheets I just changed?!? Why would you ask for milk and then pour it down your shirt?!? Why would you pee in the chair when you just went in the potty?!? The look on AC's face as he faked his fakest "oh, no" after smiling through this latter incident seemed to suggest an answer. Because.

In other milestones, KC has started to rear up like an angry cat. She continues to move effectively across the floor. Today, she crawled 10 feet to play with the tag on an extention chord, so I assume her vision is doing well also.

I found a quote on a friend's blog the other day that said “Motherhood means agreeing to walk around with part of your heart outside of your body for the rest of your life.” As AC begins to walk (and stall) a lot more these days, it made me think of this poem.


Domestic

Even the wildest flowers
Must bloom
Connected by water and vein
Blood and breath.

Birthed into
Ephermeral blossoms of
Dandilion like moments
Teetering between
Firmness and flight.

Yesterday I breathed.
You rolled and giggled into the world.

Today's breath.
You laugh again
Free to run
To your own destinations
With me
Already barely holding on by the tips of your toes.

Someday,
That breath will send you flying.

For now, we make
These pictures in our minds.
Of the most wonderous question.
How?

The nutfa, the seed, the lump, the flesh
Then formed
Delighted fingers forming perfect waves.
Not, why?
Just barely dancing.

These times
I am thankful for.

Still.
Every day I see you
Standing a little taller and stronger
against the beconing breeze.

Until then
We work and pray.
Preparing for the day
We know the winds will take you.

Brick by brick
That they might guide you
On the strong, straight path.

That someday
After we are scattered dust
We might meet there again.