A Space to Stretch Into

Once you become a parent or aunt or grandparent, you are asked to be brave on a level you never thought possible. And I can guarantee that the very thing you would rather skulk away from and hide behind that tree for will be the very thing you are confronted with.

And you will be brave enough to do that very thing because it is your child, your nephew, your niece that you are standing up to defend.

And such a thing happened to me last week.

We were at soccer practice. My son is now three and we’ve been attending practices there since he was eighteen months. Mostly, it has been a wild maelstrom of energy and wild hair moving across the field, sometimes making contact with a ball, sometimes with the grass, and other times, your child simply spins while looking up at the lights.

But last week, we passed a milestone and graduated to the 3+ class which basically means that the maelstrom still ensues, but we can no longer be on the field to help contain the chaos.

Which is fine and a needed step. I’m behind a glass wall, in his full-view, less than five feet away. He will survive! And yet…

And yet…somehow that ugly thing that has always made me want to shrink down and out of my space, that thing that makes me want to get small and silent and hidden happened: Confrontation.

My husband goes roaring towards it, it’s his heart song and his dear friend.

I on the other hand felt my heart literally leap out of my chest. It flew out and I could not catch it. But for the first time, I could not skulk away, I could not hide. This thing was directed towards my child. My running, talking, always-moving-with-every-single-breath child. And I couldn’t turn away. I couldn’t leave.

I didn’t want to leave.

Only five minutes into this new adventure and the coach turns to us and yells that he, our child, is disrupting the class and will have to be taken out and returned to the younger class.

I stop. My husband looks at me. My temple pulses with a primal feeling totally foreign to me. We’ve been watching everything and nothing out of the ordinary has happened. Our child has been his wiggly self but he has not done anything wrong that was obvious.

And oh by the way…it’s been 5 minutes since the class started.

5 minutes.

Seriously!

Seriously?

Old pre-mama me would have turned and walked away.

New post-mama me looks directly into the coaches eye, breathes deeply, stands, and get ready to move.

This child will not be made to feel small. This child will continue to love and laugh and learn how to be in this space in an appropriate way. In his own way. But you will not stop him. You will not make him to feel small. Ever!

My husband enters the field and talks to the coach. I continue to look directly at the situation. Hubby turns and smiles and gives me a thumbs-up.

All is well. Our son is fine. The coach is calm.

I breathe and notice my kid standing quietly and looking up at the lights.

And me? I have learned another valuable lesson thanks to my child: Stretch into your space, mama! Do it and I will follow. I am watching you, so teach me. I learn from you, mama, how to take up my own space in my own unique and glorious way.

Thank you, sweet one. You are my forever teacher and know that I will defend you, always.