It is a common for parents to note that their child’s behaviour the “worst” at home. This – and that it’s a good thing – likely won’t be new information to parents. Children feel comfortable to express themselves – including meltdowns, tantrums, outbursts – when they are safe and secure. That is, they trust and know you love them even when they have had it with the world.
However, I wonder that though I get to see the worst – and deal, most days anyway – do I truly ever see the best?
Today, I was in a hurry. I ran to pick up one son with the younger in tow and carrying a witch hat (don’t ask) and a long list of errands. At school gate, I’m waiting and waiting. Where is number one son? School is empty and he finally exits last. I’m slightly annoyed and try to hurry him on as he comes through the gate. “Just a minute” he says and walks past me to another family to chat before returns with: “We can go,” Now, I’m a little more annoyed. He looks upset (because he sees I’m annoyed) and finally says that one of his friends is still in school and my son thought the family should know the other child was upset inside and needed help.
It’s a message that I’ve tried so hard to teach my sons since their first day of naíonra: If you can be anything in this world, be kind. I’ve often doubted it’s gotten through, and I know that it’s hard for children to learn kindness in a world that often isn’t kind. Or fair. Or even makes sense. Also, I might be trying – but, let’s be honest, am I doing this right? I mean, had years of training to be a doctor. A job with so much accountability and oversight. But they just handed my babies over to me in the Rotunda: no exams, certification, mandatory induction. And certainly no ongoing multidisciplinary team input into my plan or goals of care.
I am fully transparent to my patients that I am a pessimist; I do give the worse outcome predictions. I tell them it’s so if things turn out better, they are pleasantly surprised rather than bitterly disappointed.
We do our best. It often turns out better than we think. Just, sometimes, we just don’t see it enough.
0 Comments