I Want You To Be Happy At Me

Gauri03 · Jan 15, 2018

"Why are you crying?", I snapped. She spoke haltingly through her sobs, "because I want you to be happy at me."

The stark honesty of her answer to my rhetorical query gave me pause. The earnestness of her tear-streaked face turned me into an emotional puddle. I scooped up the three-year-old bundle of palpable misery and clutched her close. My eyes welled up as I soothed my disconsolate child who had received, dare I say, a well-deserved reprimand. It is a fact of the mommy-verse that naptime is prime stage for baby noncooperation movements. My daughter had decided that napping was for pansies and was rampaging around the house spreading anarchy. In return I had assumed the angry mommy voice and raised the scepter of the oft-promised but I swear never delivered… pitai*. My son, older and smarter, knows that mom's threats of corporal punishment are discipline theater, less effective than even the dismal security impact of the TSA. The little one however is still too young to call my bluff. As she bawled, I asked the unfair question all angry mothers ask, "Why are you crying?" Callous implications inherent in the inquiry — crying because you don't want to nap, and throwing an anticipatory tantrum to escape punishment. As if her crying were designed to annoy me. Behold the narcissism of parenthood!

Placated by my comforting shushing, she nestled into my chest, and the sound of her soft snores caught me reflecting on her words. I was dumbfounded by the unembellished sincerity of her disclosure. In a moment of accidental Zen, my baby had made a profound admission with a candor unique to children. She had dispensed with the cobweb of words that adults weave and bared without prevarication the essence of her distress. She was unconcerned with the consequences of her defiance; she simply needed reassurance that I loved her regardless of her behavior. My daughter had confessed what we've all wanted to say at some point, but dared not, lest the veneer of self-assurance slide away exposing the distraught child within us. We need to know we are loved and wanted, especially during moments of conflict with those who matter to us. Would any contradiction, criticism or censure hurt as much if we were assured of our opponent's regard for us? Probably not. A gentle reiteration of mutual respect has the power to disentangle the trickiest of misunderstandings.

Vulnerability is the basis of deep and meaningful emotional connections. Yet, like many of us, I shield myself from hurt and rejection by feigning strength, nonchalance and detachment. Under the guise of self-preservation, our hardened exteriors protect our fragile egos. However, by closing ourselves off from hurt we also close doors to deeply gratifying connections. While it can be frightening, mutual vulnerability fosters trust and closeness. I reach for this quote as a reminder that intimate relationships cannot be forged without commensurate emotional risk.

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable." ― C. S. Lewis, The Four Loves

Of late, instead of avoiding situations I find uncomfortable, or projecting a strong, in-control facade, I have chosen to embrace the uncertainty of being myself. If I get hurt, instead of shutting up and withdrawing, I choose to take it for what it is — a learning experience and an opportunity to redirect. My dearest friend hadn't called in a while and I didn't want to 'bother' her, which truth be told was an irrational fear of revealing that I’d missed her. Despite consternation I picked up the phone and texted her saying just that. Later in the day she showed up with flowers as an apology for not calling. I am not ashamed to confess that even my husband's flowers have never made me as giddy as her delightful gesture. The other day my husband and I were in the middle of an everyday spousal squabble. He bristled with annoyance, "This is so exasperating!" Without deliberation I said, "I don't want you to be angry with me." As my words sank in, his features softened into an apologetic smile. I quietly thanked my mini-sensei for reminding me that sometimes it's okay to ask for exactly what you need.

Not everyone will respond favorably to unvarnished authenticity, but is it ever possible to make everyone approve of you? As they say in the American south — you can be the peachiest, juiciest peach out there and you will still meet someone who hates peaches. Letting down your guard filters out those who weren't meant to be and leaves behind the ones who like you for you. At my age it is simply expedient to lay bare my frayed edges and hold on tight to the few who are willing to trade their insecurities for mine.

I am now working on a modified disciplinary strategy with my little bandit. These days I get down on my knees, look her square in eyes and say, "Mommy is not happy with what you did, but I am always happy at you." The twinkle in her eyes tells me she is beginning to understand the difference.

*pitai (Hindi) -- spanking

GeetaKashyap · Jan 15, 2018

Gauri03 said: ↑

"Why are you crying?", I snapped. She spoke haltingly through her sobs, "because I want you to be happy at me."

The stark honesty of her answer to my rhetorical query gave me pause. The earnestness of her tear-streaked face turned me into an emotional puddle. I scooped up the three-year-old bundle of palpable misery and clutched her close. My eyes welled up as I soothed my disconsolate child who had received, dare I say, a well-deserved reprimand. It is a fact of the mommy-verse that naptime is prime stage for baby noncooperation movements. My daughter had decided that napping was for pansies and was rampaging around the house spreading anarchy. In return I had assumed the angry mommy voice and raised the scepter of the oft-promised but I swear never delivered… pitai*. My son, older and smarter, knows that mom's threats of corporal punishment are discipline theater, less effective than even the dismal security impact of the TSA. The little one however is still too young to call my bluff. As she bawled, I asked the unfair question all angry mothers ask, "Why are you crying?" Callous implications inherent in the inquiry — crying because you don't want to nap, and throwing an anticipatory tantrum to escape punishment. As if her crying were designed to annoy me. Behold the narcissism of parenthood!

Placated by my comforting shushing, she nestled into my chest, and the sound of her soft snores caught me reflecting on her words. I was dumbfounded by the unembellished sincerity of her disclosure. In a moment of accidental Zen, my baby had made a profound admission with a candor unique to children. She had dispensed with the cobweb of words that adults weave and bared without prevarication the essence of her distress. She was unconcerned with the consequences of her defiance; she simply needed reassurance that I loved her regardless of her behavior. My daughter had confessed what we've all wanted to say at some point, but dared not, lest the veneer of self-assurance slide away exposing the distraught child within us. We need to know we are loved and wanted, especially during moments of conflict with those who matter to us. Would any contradiction, criticism or censure hurt as much if we were assured of our opponent's regard for us? Probably not. A gentle reiteration of mutual respect has the power to disentangle the trickiest of misunderstandings.

Vulnerability is the basis of deep and meaningful emotional connections. Yet, like many of us, I shield myself from hurt and rejection by feigning strength, nonchalance and detachment. Under the guise of self-preservation, our hardened exteriors protect our fragile egos. However, by closing ourselves off from hurt we also close doors to deeply gratifying connections. While it can be frightening, mutual vulnerability fosters trust and closeness. I reach for this quote as a reminder that intimate relationships cannot be forged without commensurate emotional risk.

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable." ― C. S. Lewis, The Four Loves

Of late, instead of avoiding situations I find uncomfortable, or projecting a strong, in-control facade, I have chosen to embrace the uncertainty of being myself. If I get hurt, instead of shutting up and withdrawing, I choose to take it for what it is — a learning experience and an opportunity to redirect. My dearest friend hadn't called in a while and I didn't want to 'bother' her, which truth be told was an irrational fear of revealing that I’d missed her. Despite consternation I picked up the phone and texted her saying just that. Later in the day she showed up with flowers as an apology for not calling. I am not ashamed to confess that even my husband's flowers have never made me as giddy as her delightful gesture. The other day my husband and I were in the middle of an everyday spousal squabble. He bristled with annoyance, "This is so exasperating!" Without deliberation I said, "I don't want you to be angry with me." As my words sank in, his features softened into an apologetic smile. I quietly thanked my mini-sensei for reminding me that sometimes it's okay to ask for exactly what you need.

Not everyone will respond favorably to unvarnished authenticity, but is it ever possible to make everyone approve of you? As they say in the American south — you can be the peachiest, juiciest peach out there and you will still meet someone who hates peaches. Letting down your guard filters out those who weren't meant to be and leaves behind the ones who like you for you. At my age it is simply expedient to lay bare my frayed edges and hold on tight to the few who are willing to trade their insecurities for mine.

I am now working on a modified disciplinary strategy with my little bandit. These days I get down on my knees, look her square in eyes and say, "Mommy is not happy with what you did, but I am always happy at you." The twinkle in her eyes tells me she is beginning to understand the difference.

*pitai (Hindi) -- spanking
Click to expand...

@Gauri03

10/10 dear.

Ever since I started partially practicing this (my ego doesn't allow full implementation) I find my life less stressful. I don't have to now look my best or project the brainiest side of me always, I simply approach life in a simple way, admit my follies or ignorance without any hurt ego (I believe it is okay to not know everything as long as we are ready to learn) I put my point across and leave without any attachments or apprehensions. This shocks people at first but softens them easily too.

I also make it a point to end any sermon of mine with my son with 'I love you' and this works like magic.(he is an adult ready to fly out!)

Good one, Gauri

stayblessed · Jan 15, 2018

This one is so beautiful Gauri.

Cheeniya · Jan 15, 2018

What a lovable thread!

Gauri03 said: ↑

"Mommy is not happy with what you did, but I am always happy at you."
Click to expand...

That indeed touched my heart.

girvani · Jan 15, 2018

Dear Gauri

Such a beautiful thread with a life lesson. I just loved when you conclude with the following,
"Mommy is not happy with what you did, but I am always happy at you."

Nothing can beat this. So so beautifully written.

Vani

satchitananda · Jan 15, 2018

Gauri03 said: ↑

"Why are you crying?", I snapped. She spoke haltingly through her sobs, "because I want you to be happy at me."

The stark honesty of her answer to my rhetorical query gave me pause. The earnestness of her tear-streaked face turned me into an emotional puddle. I scooped up the three-year-old bundle of palpable misery and clutched her close. My eyes welled up as I soothed my disconsolate child who had received, dare I say, a well-deserved reprimand. It is a fact of the mommy-verse that naptime is prime stage for baby noncooperation movements. My daughter had decided that napping was for pansies and was rampaging around the house spreading anarchy. In return I had assumed the angry mommy voice and raised the scepter of the oft-promised but I swear never delivered… pitai*. My son, older and smarter, knows that mom's threats of corporal punishment are discipline theater, less effective than even the dismal security impact of the TSA. The little one however is still too young to call my bluff. As she bawled, I asked the unfair question all angry mothers ask, "Why are you crying?" Callous implications inherent in the inquiry — crying because you don't want to nap, and throwing an anticipatory tantrum to escape punishment. As if her crying were designed to annoy me. Behold the narcissism of parenthood!

Placated by my comforting shushing, she nestled into my chest, and the sound of her soft snores caught me reflecting on her words. I was dumbfounded by the unembellished sincerity of her disclosure. In a moment of accidental Zen, my baby had made a profound admission with a candor unique to children. She had dispensed with the cobweb of words that adults weave and bared without prevarication the essence of her distress. She was unconcerned with the consequences of her defiance; she simply needed reassurance that I loved her regardless of her behavior. My daughter had confessed what we've all wanted to say at some point, but dared not, lest the veneer of self-assurance slide away exposing the distraught child within us. We need to know we are loved and wanted, especially during moments of conflict with those who matter to us. Would any contradiction, criticism or censure hurt as much if we were assured of our opponent's regard for us? Probably not. A gentle reiteration of mutual respect has the power to disentangle the trickiest of misunderstandings.

Vulnerability is the basis of deep and meaningful emotional connections. Yet, like many of us, I shield myself from hurt and rejection by feigning strength, nonchalance and detachment. Under the guise of self-preservation, our hardened exteriors protect our fragile egos. However, by closing ourselves off from hurt we also close doors to deeply gratifying connections. While it can be frightening, mutual vulnerability fosters trust and closeness. I reach for this quote as a reminder that intimate relationships cannot be forged without commensurate emotional risk.

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable." ― C. S. Lewis, The Four Loves

Of late, instead of avoiding situations I find uncomfortable, or projecting a strong, in-control facade, I have chosen to embrace the uncertainty of being myself. If I get hurt, instead of shutting up and withdrawing, I choose to take it for what it is — a learning experience and an opportunity to redirect. My dearest friend hadn't called in a while and I didn't want to 'bother' her, which truth be told was an irrational fear of revealing that I’d missed her. Despite consternation I picked up the phone and texted her saying just that. Later in the day she showed up with flowers as an apology for not calling. I am not ashamed to confess that even my husband's flowers have never made me as giddy as her delightful gesture. The other day my husband and I were in the middle of an everyday spousal squabble. He bristled with annoyance, "This is so exasperating!" Without deliberation I said, "I don't want you to be angry with me." As my words sank in, his features softened into an apologetic smile. I quietly thanked my mini-sensei for reminding me that sometimes it's okay to ask for exactly what you need.

Not everyone will respond favorably to unvarnished authenticity, but is it ever possible to make everyone approve of you? As they say in the American south — you can be the peachiest, juiciest peach out there and you will still meet someone who hates peaches. Letting down your guard filters out those who weren't meant to be and leaves behind the ones who like you for you. At my age it is simply expedient to lay bare my frayed edges and hold on tight to the few who are willing to trade their insecurities for mine.

I am now working on a modified disciplinary strategy with my little bandit. These days I get down on my knees, look her square in eyes and say, "Mommy is not happy with what you did, but I am always happy at you." The twinkle in her eyes tells me she is beginning to understand the difference.

*pitai (Hindi) -- spanking
Click to expand...

I wish there were a 'love' button for this. Preserving oneself, protecting one's vulnerabilities. How often have I thought to myself that I need to shut myself in to protect myself - at this age, it is not seldom that one loses dear ones - friends as well as relatives. Not making friends does not seem to be an option. How does one avoid losing them?

I loved the little one's reply. I am going to try that next time to see if it defuses frayed tempers around me. Coming from a little one, it just wrings one's heart, but would the same admission coming from an adult bring forth the same kind of understanding and emotions? Nothing like trying.

jayasala42 · Jan 15, 2018

Dear Gauri Madam,
Simply superb!
Appears that this is the tactics adopted by all parents especially in US.
In 2008, when I visited US, my grandson was just three years.My daughter-in-law very often asked the child whether he wants Amma to be happy or sad.He would wipe his tears with the word'happy' and hug her.Situation would become normal. Now she is following the same trick for the younger one, while the 12 year old looks on.
There is nothing wrong in proving ourselves as ignorant to get things done.The
last line,"Mommy is not happy with what you did, but I am always happy at you." -is the crown of the snippet.
Once the child turns 5, Gauri can have a different strategy to deal with.After 12 children will have strategies to deal with parents.That is life.

Jayasala42

kkrish · Jan 15, 2018

Beautiful @Gauri03
You have provided the fundamental building block on how to nurture and grow relationships - blood, filial, matrimonial, and friendships.
Another important truth I take away from your post is how much we learn from our children.
There is a saying that children are personifications of God. May be not only because they are honest and without any guile but because they teach us a lot by their own behavior. My children have taught me so much on magnanimity, forgiveness, good hardheartedness, and much more.
Perhaps this is what they meant when they said lord Shiva knelt down and took lessons from His son Lord Muruga.

Viswamitra · Jan 15, 2018

@Gauri03,

Very well written thread, Gauri and thank you for sharing your thoughts in such an eloquent way. I am very happy to mention that I learn so much from your thought process and you should write more such threads in future.

Going on the knees to speak to the children and maintaining eye contact with them are always great strategies. Even holding their hands makes them listen to us very carefully. Talking with a smile on our face makes it even more interesting to them.

The children are the best reflection of openness, living in the present moment and synchronizing thoughts, words and deeds. These are inherent qualities of every human being and that is why we are very happy in the company of the children. But as we begin constructing our brain, we use materials that are not compatible to our inherent nature drifting away from our normal state. We become like a spring that is pressed hard with a lot of surface tension and letting it go restores its original position escapes our mind.

Regarding spousal arguments, I had learned an important lesson at a very early stage of my marriage. When my wife was expressing displeasure about one of my thoughts or actions, I spent considerable amount of time explaining my thought or action to calm her down quickly knowing full well that my thought or action is outright wrong. I was under the impression the issue will go away quickly once I give a reasonable justification. One fine day She told me, "Why don't you accept your fault?" That is when it struck me that the only way the issues disappear is when I am open and frank in admitting it. I was overthinking that she was going to settle score with me for admitting a mistake whereas all she wanted is to normalize the relationship quickly by me admitting my fault.

Understanding how our mind works solves half the problem of the world we perceive.

Viswa

Srama · Jan 15, 2018

Dear Gauri,

These little ones I tell you! How wonderful to be able to peek into that innocent world and be awed by that innocence no? I can only imagine how you felt when you realized, it was not pitai she was worried about but she was worried about something far deeper than that! She is already making sure that emotional bonds (that really matter) are intact. May I say, "You are doing a good job mommy!". You are indeed an admirable mother to be able to do that, pause, and look at simply being. The charming world of children I tell you. As write this response to you, I have been busy going through some book reports from my students and honestly, after reading them, despite the grades they may have earned, I am busy writing personal notes to them, all because I got a glimpse of their personalities. I want to assure them that I am there, no matter what!

What you have written reminded me something my DD did. For Mother's day this past year, I got a gift from her with a picture of herself and a caption that read "I know you love me no matter what I do". Now, first I teared up thanking God that she gets it and then being the adult that I am, soon get skeptical only because of her age and took pains to gently probe to find out if all was well in her little world. It was only when she emphasized "amma but you tell this to us all the time, that no matter what, we should always know that you love us" (including her brother) and finally I heaved a sigh of relief and let go.

You do bring out a wonderful message Gauri. It is not hard to be that upfront and straight forward with people that matter to us but yet as you well know, it is the hardest thing to do. It is so easy to be that way with other interactions because deep down we know that interaction is not/may not be that important but in closer relationships, aside ego there is this dance going on all the time and I somehow cannot help but feel that it is fear that drives our interactions with people we care about. What is the worst that can happen always leads to the answer that we may lose them and the question always comes back to us with a "are we willing to do that?". Thank fully with our own children we can give that unconditional love no matter what and that is a wonderful place to be with our own parents we have as well - perhaps that is why they say blood is thicker water! What a wonderful place it would be if we can do that with other relationships too and the truth is we should continue to do so, building stronger relationships.

You did get me thinking! So nice to see you in snippets and hope to read more from you and often.

Happy New Year to you!