by Heather Plett | Dec 9, 2005 | Uncategorized
A couple of nights ago, Nikki asked me “Mom, what does ‘reluctant’ mean?” I tried to explain, but then, because I read the look on her face as continued puzzlement, I asked her to tell me what the sentence was that she’d read. “I’ll tell you later, Mom,” she said, and then walked away. I knew then, as I almost always know with this daughter, that it was something more important than just a word in a book she was reading.
Sure enough, later that evening, when we were alone, she said, “I was asking about the word, because on my report card it says ‘Nicole is reluctant to speak up in class’.” Ah yes, I should have known that a week after she brought home the report card, she was still processing its contents. Other kids (like Julie) have long forgotten what it said in their report cards, but not Nikki. Nikki is a “processor”.
Let me tell you a little about the mind of this dear girl. She has always been a thinker of thoughts way beyond her young years. She’s always had a corner of the world on her young shoulders. From a very young age, it was clear that she couldn’t just be a “kid” – her little mind was always working; full of things too big for her to fully comprehend, but too important for her to ignore.
This is the girl who, at the age of 2, would worry when I pulled into the mall parking lot that I wouldn’t be able to find a parking spot. I’m sure the first word that came out of her mouth was in the form of a question. She needed to know EVERYTHING there was to know – all the little pieces of the puzzle that would help her put her world in order. We’d walk down the street – when she was still young enough to be in a stroller (and trust me, that didn’t last long) – and she’d see a man walking down the street. “Who’s that man? where’s he going? Does he have any children? Does he live close to us?” It wasn’t just a passing curiosity – it was like she NEEDED to know all these things. Only if she knew did she feel like her little world was safe. Oh, how wearying it was to ALWAYS be looking for answers that would satisfy her. “I don’t know,” was never good enough.
When she was about 3, her great-grandmother died. Driving home one night, a few days after Mémère died, Nikki looked up at the moon and asked “Mommy, who moves the moon?” Because she was too young for the scientific answer and I was too tired to try to help her understand, I said, “God does.” The look of concern on her face told me that, once again, that answer didn’t quite satisfy. “But what does Mémère Beauchemin do while God’s moving the moon?” It wasn’t just a random question, it was a genuine concern that Mémère might not be very well cared for up there in a heaven where God was busy being distracted by moon-moving duties.
When she was 4, we lost Matthew. She wanted to send our stroller up to heaven so God would have something to take Matthew for walks in. She also needed to know what we did with his body, and how all those little babies could fit in one little urn she saw buried under the ground.
When she was 5, the World Trade Centre came down, and I knew I’d have to handle it carefully with her. For one thing, I could never lie to this little girl. She NEEDED to know the truth. Fairy tales, like Santa or the Tooth Fairy were a waste of time with her – she needed truth, not fictional characters. She needed to KNOW it was Mommy sneaking into her room to put a quarter under her pillow. So, on 9/11, when she came home from kindergarten, I knew I’d need to tell her about what had happened – better she hear it from me than from the kids in the play ground; or worse yet, saw it on TV. After I’d explained what had happened, I found her standing at the window, watching some fire trucks go by. There was that familiar look of worry on her face. “Are they going to the towers, Mommy?” Somewhere in my communication, I’d forgotten to tell her the buildings that collapsed were far away from our house.
This is the same girl who will not take communion at church, because it just doesn’t make enough sense to her. How could bread and grape juice have anything to do with God? And if it doesn’t make sense to her, then it would be “cheating” to pretend otherwise.
So, when I heard the question about the word “reluctant”, I knew the question behind it was much deeper than just a passing interest. She needs to know what her teachers are saying. She needs to understand the problem. She needs to mull it over night after night.
Unfortunately, this is a little girl who runs the risk of getting lost in the system. As AC said when I reported her night of tears last week, some kids just don’t fit the mold when it comes to “books and larnin’”. No, it’s true. Some kids are too smart for school. When other kids are busy learning the ABC’s, she’s busy worrying that Hurricane Katrina might make its way to Winnipeg and wollop us like it wolloped New Orleans. Unfortunately, she’s in an environment where she doesn’t feel safe enough to ask the teachers all those questions she needs answers to.
So many days, my heart aches for that little girl. Other days, I gaze at her in wonder at her wisdom and depth. Once, a complete stranger looked at her picture and said “she has an old soul.” I don’t believe in re-incarnation, but if having an “old soul” means that you view the world through eyes that are older than your years, then she does indeed have an old soul.
I am humbled to be the mother of this wise and wonderful little girl. Some days, she seems too much for me. Do I give her the right answers to her many questions? Do I make the world safe enough for her? Have I helped her find enough coping mechanisms to face the world?
I’ve often said that she will either be a deep thinker and scholar, amazing the world with her insight and wisdom, or she’ll have a nervous breakdown before she reaches adulthood. I hope it’s the former. I hope the decisions we’re making as parents (like the fact that we’re not pulling her out of school when she seems completely lost in a class that’s way too big and she gets lost in the shuffle) are the right ones – or at least they’re “good enough”.
Please God, let her make it through. She’s a tender flower and I love her so, so much.
by Heather Plett | Dec 4, 2005 | Uncategorized
1. When Nikki came to tell me that, not only had she dusted the living room like I’d asked her, but she’d also dusted the bathroom, our bedroom and Maddie’s bedroom.
2. Watching Julie put on a brave face, even though she was fighting disappointment when both of her sisters got something new for their rooms and she didn’t.
3. Decorating the Christmas tree with my daughters (actually – they did most of the work 🙂
4. Remembering the stories connected with each tree ornament. It’s become quite an ecclectic bunch, and I love every one of them.
5. Finding paint in 3 of the 4 colours Nikki wants for her room at the Habitat Re-store for the price we’d have paid for just one gallon elsewhere. Yay!
6. Watching Maddie talk to the Santa figurine, sing lullabies to Baby Jesus, and offer to get the angel atop the tree a snack 🙂
7. The VERY yummy recipe for the black bean dip I made for the shower tomorrow (and the fact that I get to scrape the bowl clean as I blog 🙂
8. When Marcel came to wash dishes for me at 11:00 at night, after I’d been baking like a crazy (not to mention messy) woman. He could just as easily have gone to bed.
9. Finding the kind of boots Nikki really wanted in the right size this time.
10. Watching Nikki and her dad work together on a French school project – at least an hour of them working together without either of them losing patience with the other one – that must be a record! Maybe there’s hope. Funny, with her it seems that almost every year, she reaches a bit of a breaking point (like last night), and then she turns the corner, she settles down a bit (like today) and school gets easier.
11. Finding the missing library book and cell phone in the cavernous hole in the easy chair. (Don’t ask.)
12. A lovely home, decorated for Christmas.
13. Did I mention the black bean dip I’m scraping out of the bottom of the bowl? Good to the last drop! All the better with hint-of-lime tortilla chips!
14. Fully decorating the Christmas tree instead of leaving the bottom 2 feet clear – our children are growing up!
15. Hanging one of Matthew’s angel ornaments near the top of the tree and watching the light sparkle through it.
16. None of my family whined about supper, even though I’d forgotten a key ingredient in the meatloaf.
17. The fact that tomorrow I get to see a bunch of my favourite people, and celebrate my new niece.
18. The encouraging words from my blog friends after last night’s heartache.
19. The nice warm bed that I’m about to crawl into, and the nice warm husband who’ll be next to me. G’night and sweet dreams.
by Heather Plett | Dec 3, 2005 | Uncategorized
…especially when they’re accompanied with tears:
“Why does my sister ALWAYS get better report cards than me? She gets almost all ‘excellents’, and I got 2 ‘needs improvement’ and some ‘fairs’.”
“I never speak up in class because I’m too afraid I’ll make a mistake and then I’ll be embarrassed.”
“I’ve been playing alone at recess for 2 weeks now because the last time I played with my friends, we got in trouble, and now I’m afraid of getting into trouble again. So I play alone.”
“I wish I wasn’t so dumb.”
All this I heard tonight, and more. And now I am going to bed with a broken heart. How do I help this girl? Did I say the right things tonight?
by Heather Plett | Dec 2, 2005 | Uncategorized
Maddie and I spent a delightful evening together tonight. Her older sisters were out with their daddy at their first rock concert. (I know, I know – they’re kinda young for ROCK concerts! Take it up with their daddy! He turned them into little rockers at a very young age! It’s Simple Plan – I sincerely hope they’re basically harmless fun. It’s their Christmas present.) Anyway, back to me and Maddie…
We spent the first part of the evening wandering around our favourite bookstore (where you have to climb Pooh’s tree to get to the children’s section 🙂 I’d promised to buy her a little something, since it was buddy night for us, and her sisters got concert tickets. Well, she didn’t find what she wanted at the bookstore. Nor at the dollar store, or Children’s Place, or Zellers. She didn’t even want doughnuts at Tim Hortons. She wasn’t in a very materialistic mood tonight, which made me smile because when I promised her something, I had visions of her begging for EVERYTHING.
In the end, we headed to Value Village (big second hand store), and her and I both found some “gently used” pants (I got lucky AGAIN! I don’t know what’s up with my luck with pants lately!) As her treat for the evening, she picked an Itsy Bitsy Spider game. Not bad for $1.99 – I love the fact that 3 year olds have no concept of the “monetary value” us adults place on things!
As we were leaving Value Village, she said to me “Are you having a rough evening with me, Mom?” Hmmm… what kind of signals was I sending her? “No, sweetie, I’m having a very FUN evening with you.”
Later, in the car, this conversation took place – making me wonder once again, what she’s picking up from me:
Me: “I really like you, Maddie.”
Maddie: “Do you still like me when I’m bad, Mom?”
Me: “Yes, of COURSE. I like you ALL the time, Maddie. Every day of your life.”
Maddie: “And when my sisters are making too much noise, do you still hear me?”
Hmmm… wonder what’s behind THAT question?
Me: “Yes, sweetie, even when your sisters are making too much noise, I still TRY to hear you.”
And then I turned the tables on her…
Me: “And when I’M bad, do you still like me?”
Maddie: “Mo-om – YOU’RE not ever bad!”
Me: “But sometimes I get grouchy and impatient.”
Maddie: “Yeah, well sometimes I do too.”
Do you WONDER why I like that kid so much? 🙂
(By the way, ccap, Maddie picked out SEVERAL things she wanted to buy Abby, long before she found anything she wanted for herself 🙂
by Heather Plett | Dec 1, 2005 | Uncategorized
I’ve just finished reviewing 52 resumés, so, in case you’ll be applying for a job any time soon, I thought I’d offer a little unsolicited advice, based on what I’ve seen.
The next time you’re submitting a resumé for a job you want, DON’T, under any circumstances:
– include a picture of yourself talking on a cell phone with a fake smile pasted on your face. Your wife might tell you it’s the best likeness of you, but that doesn’t mean a potential employer wants to see it.
– include a whole page of quotes from everyone you’ve ever known, expounding on how great you are. One word – OVERKILL!
– tell me you’re overqualified, but you want the job anyway. I’m not impressed.
– phone and ask if you can go straight to the interview stage and skip the resumé stage. What are you hiding – the fact that you don’t know how to write?
– write a three line sentence in your cover letter using every big word and excessive adjective you can think of. If an employment counselor told you it was a good idea, don’t trust her – she doesn’t have your best interests at heart.
– write a lazy e-mail. You may be able to get away with “l8r” or “btw” with your friends, but it just doesn’t work when you’re applying for a job. GRAMMAR, people!
– brag too much. There’s a fine line between honesty and outright arrogance – don’t cross it.
– cram your entire resumé onto one page. I don’t CARE if that’s the way the resumé book told you to do it – they were WRONG! I can’t POSSIBLY know enough about you to consider interviewing you if all I have is one page.
– apply for a job in Alberta, and then proceed to tell me you’re not willing to move there.
– bold almost every line in your cover letter. No, you won’t impress me by YELLING AT ME!
– tell me that you’ve hob-knobbed with some of the most wealthy people and corporations in the world. That might get you a job with an investment company, but not a non-profit organization.
– tell me you habitually work 16 hour days, 6 days a week. That tells me a few things about you – none of them flattering. Like a) you have no life and have to cling to your job for your sense of fulfillment, or b) you like to avoid your wife and kids and so spend most of your time at the office, or c) you work at a very inefficient pace and can never get the job done on time, or d) you like to soak the company for every bit of overtime you can get, or e) you haven’t got a clue what the word “balance” means, or f) you’re a workaholic with no personality.
– tell me that God wants you to have the job. God might, but he needs ME to cooperate!
