Provoking curiosity…
Being 24 weeks pregnant with my sixth child has brought about a few new changes in my normal routine. Prayer on my knees has been replaced by what I’ve scolded the children for in church: so-called “lazy-butt syndrome”. (And when they follow suit, I remind them once again, “Mommy only gets to do this for a few more months…”) . I’ve gradually substituted homeschooling in the classroom sitting in my simple wooden Ikea chair at my desk with homeschooling from the pillow bound comfort of my bed. And finally, yesterday I decided that grocery shopping, which is always an adventure with all the kids in tow, will be occasionally replaced with Peapod grocery delivery.
The last one is partially due to all the attention I got for grocery shopping with all of them yesterday. I can not go out with my brood without provoking curiosity.
The kids are great, angelic actually, when it comes to receiving all this attention. Imagine being talked about bluntly right in front of your face, with one party doubting the value of your existence, and standing there with a patient smile on your face, waiting politely for your turn to speak.
Being pregnant, I have “mother bear” hormones raging, out to protect my babies as fiercely as a mother black bear defends her threatened young, whether I like it or not. (After delivery, these hormones fade, and I become much more amicable.)
So, yesterday, I’m shopping in the floral department with my girls when the flower cashier comes over to offer me assistance. But she is unable to offer me help because she is too distracted by the fact that I have “so many children” and just wants to talk to me about how much trouble they must give me.
“Actually”, I say, “these guys are great! I can’t imagine life without them”.
“Oh! (Putting her hands up with a ‘no offense’ gesture). Of course you can’t! My daughter has two and she can’t imagine life without hers either! (Searching for some symmetry here…)”
She speaks more softly to me, and steps a bit closer, “You know, my daughter’s oldest really struggles with jealously toward his younger sister. And IT IS BAD. It’s to the point where…”
…She proceeds to tell me all her worries and concerns about how this older child is probably going to turn into an axe murderer, since his younger sister gets all the attention and he must be feeling ignored by his parents and the rest of the world. Then she asks me the BIG question:
“Do yours have jealously between them? It must be really hard for you?”
It’s a good thing I think of a million things after the conversation has ended. I later realized that she was implying that I was doing a disservice to my children by not possibly being able to give each one individual personal attention. That I might be making them secretly harbor jealously which they might need years of therapy as adults to undo. That I am adding to the prison population by creating “attention-hungry” monsters. That I couldn’t possibly be a good mother who meets her children’s needs.
O…K….
It was plain to see that my children manifested no abnormally extreme jealously toward each other at all. Looking at them yesterday, one would see a community of best friends, twirling and smiling as children do, with a leader mother to turn to with questions and comments about species of flowers and the like.
In response to her question about my kids being jealous, I reply, “I don’t think they struggle with jealously because they are too busy having fun together and taking care of each other. ”
She says, “So, they’re really all yours? I don’t know how you do it.”
“Well, yes, they’re “all mine”, and they’re no trouble. Now, the baby on the way, he’s the one who’s really giving me trouble right now by kicking me in the ribs!”
Seemingly flabbergasted, she continued spilling her guts to me about how she wished she could’ve had more, and how her daughter wishes she could have more, and actually speaking to me of everything under the sun. (This is a common reaction, for some reason). It was then that I conveniently noticed my youngest, Teresa, looking very sleepy, and almost nodding off in the shopping cart.
I excused myself from the conversation, we exchanged parting words and formalities and I wished her a happy day.
This scenario repeated itself three more times yesterday before I returned home.
