Yesterday when I picked up the little travelers from school, Henry Hotdog's kindergarten teacher had something to tell me. "You have to tell your Mummy about the poem you wrote today Henry - can you tell her?" The hotdog considered the proposal for a moment and then proceeded to pull my head down towards his. In my ear he whispered.
"A poem - by Henwee"
He took a deep breath, I think this may have been a dramatic pause for effect.
"It's for my family" he qualified and continued with his whisper.
I want you to come to me.
I want you.
Come to me.
I want you to come to me.
My heart melted. I looked at the hotdog's teacher who was looking misty eyed.
"Isn't it beautiful?" It really touched me - he did it all by himself". She had her hand on her heart.
As I wandered off towards the school cafeteria with the third little traveler's guitar over one shoulder, the fourth's backpack on another, I felt weightless. I was lifted by the knowledge that someone had confirmed my thoughts all along, the fourth little traveler was truly special. The poem had just been another example.
It doesn't take much to send me down this path. The path of irrational thought towards each and everyone of my children being truly brilliant.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not setting any unreachable targets or asking for particular goals. It has nothing to do with sporting achievements or report cards. I just know that each of them has something that no-one else has. Their own je ne sais quoi, the indescribable core that comes from within, the essence that makes them them. I have no explanation as to why I can see this, except for perhaps that I am their mother. That from the moment they were handed to me in the hospital, I saw something that no-one else could see. And by the way that everyone else in the maternity ward was looking at their own babies, I could see I wasn't the only one. We'd all been instantly struck by an irrational love.
Later that afternoon, as we hopped in the car the third little traveler announced that he could now play "horse with no name". I was a little doubtful, he has had five guitar lessons. It seemed a bit of a stretch. He pulled out his guitar and strummed a few bars and I could hear it! I could actually hear horse with no name. I'm not so sure if anyone else could hear it, but I could. In the same way that a mother points to an ultrasound and says "see, there's the fingers and theres the toes" and everyone is nodding, while looking at a blob in a balloon. I sang along as he strummed, his eyes shone and he grinned as he played.
"I knew you'd be able to sing it Mum, I knew you'd know it".
Maybe that's it? Maybe that's why we can see the potential and hear the music and believe that there is brilliance. We can see that our children have something unique, because they need us to. They need to know that we see them.
It's not unrealistic or irresponsible. It's just love.
How about you? Are you suffering from irrational love?