Twenty years ago I experienced a bubble of some of my best mothering. A group of younger women invited me to offer weekly classes at the park while our children played.  I took it seriously, and looked with more intention at what worked well in parenting my then six kids. During the days in between classes, I consciously lifted my attention to higher ground so that I could articulate it for them on Wednesdays. 

One of the topics I played with was Failure is Fabulous. I looked for, and found, many ways that our mess ups actually promote growth. For instance, the joy after mistakes outshines an easy win. Look at the face of a four year old riding a bike for the first time, vs. the expression of a sixteen year old who has no trouble. Another plus is that with defeat, we keep learning in an effort to understand the obstacles. The subject evolved into a presentation at homeschool and La Leche League conferences.

Another week I gave a string of ideas for navigating misbehavior, like First Short, Second Long. When two kids are fighting over one toy, you ask who wants the first turn, which is shorter, and who wants the second one, which is longer. It frequently oiled the machinery of sharing, often because the slightly older child understood that delaying has its perks. A tactic that kept our family sane was Different Rooms. Rather than banishing one child to their bedroom, I declared that the two sparring kids had to be in alternate places. It evolved into a complex dance of getting from the kitchen, to the playroom, without being in the same space as their sibling. 

"You go to the bathroom so I can walk through the dining room to get to the living room..." "Ok, but then you stay in there while I go through to my room..."

A month ago I was asked to teach a college class on Creativity in Education. Already it has opened up a shift in the time I spend with two year olds. Rather than simply enjoying them, which comes easily, I am mindful of why I offer activities that invite exploration, rather than a pinterest worthy project. We made little pumpkin pies this week, and while I was delighted with the scene of them stirring and cracking eggs, the finished tarts disappeared completely.

I am paying attention to why I name their actions. I do it out of instinct after decades of small children, but I had to ponder why. 

"Thank you for giving her a turn too!" "It looks like you are having fun with the bells." Language is a major player for these kids, and preparing to speak to college students about it helps me look at my own reasons. 

One of the qualities that makes us human is our capacity to raise our perspective above sea level. Looking down at what we do and why we do it offers a freedom not accessible to snakes.