Frozen in Time

When I was a little girl, I was shy - painfully so. My parents, out of love I’m sure, didn’t push me to come out of it. I truly believe that it would have been better for me if they had. I think I would have accomplished so much more in my life had they just pushed me a little harder to work through my shyness. I have mostly overcome my shyness as an adult, but it has been with conscious effort. I still sometimes feel like I want to turn around and run away when I am put in a new situation that feels uncomfortable.

Little Girl is going through a painfully shy period right now and I think it’s harder on me than it is on her because I just refuse to allow her to be debilitated by her shyness like I was. I know that shyness is a stage to a point, but I also know that it can build into a disability if it isn’t faced.

Today I took LG to her first day of tap dancing class at the parks and recreation center. She was fine up until we went into the studio. We got there early enough for her to observe the ballet class that was before her class - so she could see where she would be and what she would be doing and that I would be on the other side of the window where she could see me if she felt unsure. As I walked her into the room, the tears started. I gave her a hug, got her sitting down on the floor and distracted with other little girls and her teacher so that she stopped crying and quietly walked out the door to a seat on the other side of the window. She did okay for awhile - although she wasn’t exactly participating, she also wasn’t crying. At first. Then the tears started again. And when the teacher tried to get her to stand up and she refused, I was called back in. The teacher let us sit and watch the class from a chair inside the room and I spent the time whispering in her ear that she could surely do that! And oh, doesn’t that look fun? And would she maybe like to try again? The answer to every question was “no” until the girls started getting ready to go. Then she thought she might like to try. I had to tell her that it was too late this week, but she could certainly come back next week and try again. Her teacher kindly gave her a hand stamp and said we’d try again next week. And we will. And the week after that.

Because here’s the thing. It’s not about being the best. It’s not even about learning to tap dance. It’s about trying. It’s about stepping out of your comfort zone a little bit and being brave. It’s about building calluses.

I’m sure you’ve all seen a baby’s foot. So soft and perfect and pink and untouched. And some part of us might want to keep those feet perfect and pink and untouched for as long as we can by not letting our little ones go barefooted. But, look what you miss by not going barefooted! You miss the feel of the soft grass and the squish of the wet mud and the textures and tickles and touch of things that are new and different. Yes, you won’t get calluses and you won’t get scratches, but you’d miss so much more. Calluses on our feet are part of what make us human I think - and not just on our feet - but on our hands or our elbows or our knees or wherever we might build them. But more importantly, we have to have a few calluses on our hearts. Not enough that we can’t feel anything anymore, but enough to know that we have experienced the textures of life. When we’re little it’s easy to get our feelings hurt, but we build those calluses on our hearts and we learn that just because someone says something critical or hurtful, it’s not going to break us. We just learn how to let the calluses protect our tender feelings and grow stronger because they are there to protect us.

I always thought teaching was the hardest job I ever had until I became a parent. Don’t get me wrong - teaching is most definitely the second hardest job I’ve ever had. But parenting is much much tougher. It’s hard to know when to push harder and when to back off. It’s hard to always know exactly the right thing to say or do to help your kids grow into kind-hearted, yet strong adults and make good decisions. I’ve always believed that the most important ingredient in parenting is love, and I still believe that. But, when love causes us to keep our kids from building calluses, then love hinders rather than helps. Watching my daughter sit there and cry and not going to her was hard. But it was even harder to have to go to her because she was afraid to try. That hurt even more.

I know my parents loved me very much, but they made mistakes. We all do, of course, but if one of the things I learn from them is to not make the same mistakes with my daughter that they made with me, well, that’s okay, too. Because in their own way, I guess they gave me the strength to build my own calluses.

Taken March 25, 2008.