parents – Gail Bartlett-Harris Registered Counsellor

On a neglected table in my garden sat a rather ordinary black flower pot. Covered in the remnants of rainfall, leaves and a little green algae, it has lingered unobtrusively within sight but out of mind. It’s true that for many summer months I had forgotten what plant used to live there. I guessed that my wild bursts of green thumb enthusiasm (closely followed by serious lack of maintenance) had found another victim.

At one point I remember considering using the sombre reciprocal for a splash of live mint on my kitchen windowsill, but in a moment of unusual clarity I had considered my classic lack of follow through and decided against it. I had almost unceremoniously emptied the contents into the back of the compost bin. No! Who am I kidding? I almost tipped the contents under a bush at the back of one of the flower beds!

About two months ago (on a ‘let’s really look at what’s going on in the soggy garden’ walk) I noticed some little pointed leaves shooting through the soil. I didn’t know what they were but was happy something had survived.

Today the same little pot sits on the table right outside my lounge window. Almost a dozen bright, joyous miniature daffodils greet me every morning and every evening and many repeated moments through the day. When I look at them, they fill me with a complicated joy.

You see, these daffodils used to live in a green plastic pot with a ribbon around it and a plastic little sign that read ‘Happy Mother’s Day’. I can remember arriving at her door with them on a Mother’s Day morning and the look on her face when she saw them. At some point before her death last year, she must have asked me to store the bulbs for her.

They say that the love you give comes back to you. More than a year after her death, my mother offers my love back to me. When I see them, I am so happy I bought them for her, so happy that they gave her joy. I am bereft that she isn’t here to see them with me; that I can’t laugh with her about a forgotten little garden pot filled with algae and moss who sprung forth with a display deserving of a Chelsea Flower Show.

Theye are living sunshine, bittersweet beauty.

I drink them in. I drink them in for her. I drink them in from her.

“Look Mom…. Daffodils”

So the kids know right? They know it’s Dad they ask when they want to have a sleep out, in a mouldy tent, on the back lawn, with weather forecasts of 5 degrees and steady rain. And they know it’s Mum they ask at 6pm on Sunday night when they need help with their social studies assignment which is due on Monday morning.

The kids have got you sussed! Whether it’s through ‘personality analysis’ (!) or smart timing our kids are pretty on the ball when it comes to asking for things that they want.

Years back after visiting a friend my son spoke candidly about what he thought she should have done when her child mis-behaved! I remember sitting in silence the rest of the journey a little ‘freaked out’. If he so clearly saw the dynamics of my friends parenting skills – what did he think of mine!

Have you ever wondered how it is that your child ‘sees you’?

We all have a uniqueness that influences the roles we play. Dad might be ‘the emotive perfectionist’ while Mum is ‘the laid back stabilizer’. Mum might be ‘the soft touch negotiator’ whilst Dad is ‘the firm layer down of the law‘. In all relationships we make space and find our niche. Generally, when this is respectfully done between parents, the push and pull, light and shade of their roles weaves the unique dynamic that makes up their family. Sometimes though we can find ourselves cornered into a role that we no longer want.

The expression ‘he was angry enough for both of us’ explains well how a partner might influence our behaviour. When one person is so proudly the organiser it might not leave anyone else (including their partner) room to be this. Feelings of frustration or inadequacy can step in. Even, as a single parent we have a certain ways we see ourselves – a certain ‘parental identity’ that can disallow us ways of being we might prefer.

How might it be to step away from ‘planned and organised’ and into ‘we’ll go where the breeze takes us’ – even just for an afternoon? Or how might it be for ‘the timekeeper’ to take a break sometimes and be able to hand her watch over to Dad? Likewise it might be good for Dad to come home and find that consequences have already been metered out and he is free to cuddle by the fire with the kids and be ‘just loving’ tonight.

Is there a part of your parenting role you would like to play more often?

Good cop -Bad cop….wanna swap?

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This article was originally written for The Guardian newspaper and Parentline.

Tag: parents

Boomerang Daffodils

Good cop – Bad cop – Wanna swap?