It’s been on my mind a lot lately. That my children know little hardship other than their own rivalry and that I won’t let them get their ears pierced until they are 12.
By the time I was 7, Adele’s age, my parents were in the throes of a vicious, dish flinging divorce and I feared for my mother’s safety. By the time I was 10, the age of Rosie, we were living from one apartment to another trying to make ends meet. Child support was rare.
It sort of built up grit in me.
This has come up now because I did one of those crazy once-every-five-year things. I had a tarot card reading. It was all well and good. Harmless really. I asked about everyone in my family. When I asked about Adele and her temperament the psychic simply asked, “Has anything changed in her sleep lately?”
Why yes. In fact she and her sister no longer share a room and the guest room is now Adele’s very own.
“How is the energy in the room? Does she sleep with a toy?”
Why yes. In fact, she has taken to my childhood worn stuffed leopard, Rango, that I picked out of the FAO Schwarz catalog in 1970 as the only thing I wanted from Santa. (I could only ask for one thing.)
“And what is the vibe (or something along those lines) of the stuffed animal?’
A heavy sigh.
Good god, it’s terrible! Sad. Angry. He soaked up all my childhood tears!
The Aha moment.
The next weekend I took Adele to the esoteric shop where I had the psychic reading and she picked out cool stuff for her room – under the pretense, mind you, that she could sparkle up her room.
What did she pick? A dream catcher; a glow in the dark gargoyle; and a fairy dust necklace.
She was happy – and had no idea of my ulterior motive.
Rango is still her nighttime companion, along with a dog named Scruffy, who likely balances things out. But I look at Adele in her sweet slumber and think she has no idea of what struggle is. Would she have a survival instinct? Would she be resilient in that face of hardship? Or would she fall to pieces because things weren’t working out her way.
I reflect on this for Adele and her little middle class friends, too. They blissfully play, fight and make-up. So my next parenting cause… teach my girls about social action. Forget the annual holiday gift drive (in which parents pay for the toys anyway) or the cereal Box Top challenge at school to raise money for supplies when they are getting by just fine. Let’s raise money for other little seven-year olds who don’t even have a pencil. Make connection in the hearts and minds of these kids. It’s a start.
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