My children continuously ask me to write about them on my blog. They look at old posts from a few years ago and find their stories funny and intriguing.
At this point though I am reluctant to go into detail, out of respect for their privacy. I am sure they’ll come back to me one day as young adults to complain about what I might write about them via this outlet 😉
They are now 8, still full of questions, the beginnings of little emotional drama, fights, and deepening friendships both between themselves and with others.
They asked specifically that I write about a lovely, simple family moment we shared yesterday – an evening on the beach competing who could throw stones into the sea the farthest, collecting bright, colourful, almost perfectly shaped sea shells, and walking in the breeze as the sun set. We ate pizza, drank wine, soda water, and juices.
Most of all it was a special moment being together, and importantly – present.
The children sense it when we are around, especially when the gadgets are put away, that we are not in between chats with friends miles away or scrolling through Facebook or Instagram. Nothing wrong with that, there is so much power in the technology we now have in accessing our family, friends, news and ideas, but it’s quite detrimental when we multitask on the phone while trying to engage with the kids. I do it much too often.
I try to be compassionate with myself, knowing how hard it is to change habits. I try to take the time for myself everyday, to share moments with Maher regularly, to take time to connect with my people on the phone, and then exclusively spend time with the kids.
It’s all part of the practice.
I know when it’s working. It’s those rare moments that just feel right, when the underlying anxiety fades away.
As much as my kids enjoy the time together, they are already asking “Why do we have to go out for dinner ‘the four of us’? Why don’t you and papa go out alone and let us stay home and watch Netflix?”
And yes, we have started doing that a little more frequently, going out just the two of us. The kids are growing up, and like a wise woman said to me yesterday after I shared this story with
her, “I hope you, mum and dad, have something meaningful to do when the nest is empty. That time is coming soon it seems!”
Natasha Devalia 