This has been the week to immerse myself with my WonderPeeps as their super-mom recovers from surgery. It is with a heavy heart that we continue singing a little dittie with the constant refrain of 'mommy's broke -- don't jump on her' with our best country twangs. Sometimes we have serenaded her with instruments a-plenty, sometimes the singing has been acapella. Sweet voices joined in unison. Hoping our enthusiasm speeds her recovery. We sing.
What better idea could I possibly have during Friday night bed-time, than to promise a trip to one of our favorite haunts? FRANKLIN PARK CONSERVATORY!!!! Off they scampered to dream land with adventure streaming in on the horizon, me smug with an efficient end of day farewell. Dawn broke with enthusiasm!My priorities are in order, so I more or less scrubbed the Leggo-my-Eggo waffle syrup from their faces in time to have them select their own ensembles prior to our embarking on the cross town journey. I'm always thrilled to get them safely buckled into car-seats and give myself HUGE points for that feat alone. Hip Hip HOORAY for me!!!! We made it into the mini-van with no meltdowns. I have not used any threats or coercion since day break. Cross town we went, making up games to play during red light pauses and green light progress. YES! I am a pro in the Early Childhood Community. Just ask my wonders.
I started becoming suspicious as we approached the parking lot...... not one spot available in that expanse of pavement? Seriously?? What's going on????
Good fortune smiled upon us and one single car departed as we entered the last row. Congratulating the angels on their perfect timing, and before I even put the car in park I began enumerating the RULES OF THE PARKING LOT. Three children on the go and two hands for me is always a mathematical absurdity.
As we approached the glass castle structure I saw the first banner announcing, 19th ANNUAL BUTTERFLY Release: March 10th. Ah ha. All of Franklin County had apparently descended for this monumental event. To say the place was a zoo -- would be a confusing metaphor for children. Using the descriptor 'circus-act' might also stump my Wonder-kids. Steeling myself we stood in line, purchased tickets and all the while we moved forward -- my prayers became more urgent: just let me get all three returned safely to their car seats at the end of this escapade. The ticket seller confirmed what I imagined. We were about to participate on their busiest day of the year! Ooooow-la-la.
FREE blue snow-cones before we could hang up coats?!? And station upon station of butterfly crafts awaited us in the lobby!!!!! Pinterest-haven. Tattoos, magic-markers, paint splattering possibilities.... (what no face painting, how could they?) Circus, zoo, county fair all rolled into one! It was too late to turn around at this point. Ever onward.
Waiting patiently for our 'tattoos' it struck me. Where the parent competitiveness ramps up. I am standing there in line with my three 'patient' Wonders and only realize at that moment that it would have been oh-so-clever of me to run a comb thru little Red's hair -- after I'd spotted behind us a fair-wee-little princess wearing her artisan hand painted butterfly shirt with gleaming patent leather Mary Janes that matched her small clutch bag with the butterfly closure. I'd need to watch a few more Project Runway episodes to do her ensemble justice. [I'd been so proud of myself for getting them buckled into their car seats.] This Martha Stewart mom had OBVIOUSLY waited 364 days for the opening of the butterfly exhibit and little Martha had all of the tell-tale signs of that maternal attention and over-zealous planning.
YE GADS. Can you grasp my feelings of inferiority screaming?
There we stand in our thrift-store, boutique snazz-i-ness, crafty-over-zealous magic-marker up and down every digit, hair looking something like the scarecrow on a windy day, when Martha-mom inquired politely if little Martha could 'jump' the tattoo line to move ahead on their day's outing. Seriously? There were four adults for little Martha, no doubt founding fathers of the conservatory looking down long noses awaiting my response. Little Martha looked like a professional photo-op ready to unfold. It dawned on me that this is no doubt the exact, precise moment when parents can get feisty in their imagination -- right when they encounter the 'perfect' parent. I felt judged. Pure and simple.
It was at that very point that I remembered my favorite bumper sticker,
"When all else fails....... lower your standards."
Quickly on its heels I was quoting Churchill to myself,
"Comparison is the thief of joy."
Or maybe it was Margaret Thatcher? Shakespeare? Lincoln? Some brilliant mind. **Must google**
We set off from our art projects in search of glory and delight. We encountered the very definition of delight.
A sweet woman was kind enough to 'trap' not one, not two, but three butterflies for close-up inspection.
Watching them watch the winged miracles -- I really did forget about mis-matched outfits and wack-doodle hairdos. That's why I call them my Wonder-peeps!!
They remind me to immerse myself in the state of WONDER!!
The really AWE-SOME news is that despite being separated dozens and dozens and dozens of times in the crushing sea of people, we continued to find each other over and over and over again.
Let me have a HALLELUJAH, angel chorus.
I was glad that my Wonder-Ones had learned about independence -- choosing their own outfits and getting dressed under their own steam. I was glad that they were free to jump about the paths and muck around in the dirt, coming and going. I was glad that we were there to exalt in the winged creatures. I was glad that they could claim small moments of personal space meandering after their own winged creatures -- never once coming unglued over being separated from moi.
I was glad.
I could go on at length about how my Wonder-Boy was so gentle with his butterfly with special needs. He pointed out to every passing stranger with ears that, "not every butterfly has matching wings." He gave entire lectures to those kind enough to give him their attention. His was unique and had to be treated with care. Wonder-Boy was almost reverent in speaking of his little friend with the asymmetric wings. They had truly bonded in every way. Now this was the perfect metaphor indeed.
My W.B. is wired just a little bit differently than the rest of us here on the planet. He has an amazing sensitivity to details that most of the rest of us miss. He will play havoc with bell curves in formal education for years to come. His interests are deep and I can only hope that the formal educators in his world will recognize his devotion to the under-dog, the unique, the unusual and the under-construction in-his-midst as they devote energies to the spelling words, conjugated verbs and division tables of his future. His soul is ahead of many I encounter. I do my best to pay attention when we're together. He 'knew' that his butterfly needed extra attention and he was devoted to it with the zeal of one who knows first hand.
Kindergarten indeed. Sight words? How about sight lessons? Kindergarten is ye ol' first grade. Few would argue with that truth. They keep pushing down harder and faster. Yet I wonder what progress we make? When will as a 'system' allow children the art of being children? Recognizing their unique gifts: great and small?
Does the grand-mother butterfly flap her wings in dismay at the instructors expecting perfect loop-ti-loops, when the mere act of flying is a minor miracle for her progeny?
Perhaps the really important lessons are indeed the same -- whether parenting or grand parenting..... the significant lessons are how we treat others we encounter that have challenges.... butterfly, boy or broken mommy. Roots and wings, baby. Roots and wings. That's what it's all about.
I'm fortunate in that I have such patient teachers.
They're willing to let me take them back to the Conservatory on the next adventure.
-- Debbie -- ***I am now an "Amazon Affiliate" and I've done some window-shopping for supporting children with special needs. Whenever you click from my blog to Amazon and shop, you are supporting my retirement. THANK YOU!
P.S. In real time, I just tucked WonderBoy into bed. He was 99.7% asleep when I mis-stepped down from the top bunkbed, from having been rubbing his back into dream-land. From his complete slumber-saturated state he said, "Are you OK?" without opening his eyes or regaining his consciousness. He has a profound concern for others. I wish there was a spot on the report card for that analysis. I wish as a society we were graded on that insight.