Be Careful ...

It's official. I've become my mother.

Well kinda.

It happened today, my daughter turned to me with pride in her eyes as she handed me a rock. A rock the size of her head. All I could see was the rock falling on her fragile little toes and the unbearable pain that would ensue.

      So naturally the first words out of my mouth ...

                                         "Careful, it's heavy."

                                          Careful. Not "good job", not "nice rock".
          Nothing encouraging, careful.

When I thought about it, it crushed me. She was so proud and I stole that from her.

My husband gets on me all the time about it. The first thing out of my mouth is never encouragement or 'ad-a-boys' but words of caution and trepidation. I love my mother dearly, but it occurred to me that this is one of the things that bothers me so much about her. All my life, every big event shared has been followed by a 'but', or 'if' or 'be careful'. My thunder is stolen each time.

I know that just as it does from me, it comes from a place of love and concern, but it doesn't feel like love, it feels like distrust. Like you're not good enough.

Clearly my daughter {or husband or friends or myself} are not doing things to intentionally hurt themselves, do they really need my warning? My job as a mother is to encourage exploration and growth and am I really doing that when the first thing I say is "be careful".

So from here on out I vow to respond with pride and encouragement. I vow to assume that the loved ones around me are being careful. I vow to intervene when danger ensues and not give heads of warning.We will continue to use the phrase "careful feet" as she runs toward the drop off of a curb, or "careful hands" as she reaches for something prickly. That is where it will end. No more will I crush her pride with words of caution.

I vow to try. *smile*