“You say it allllll the time, Mom.”
Victor Escalona, Age 5, with tears in his eyes – referring to the phrase, “I hate you.”
Now that quote seems kind of horrible considering it is referring to my propensity to say, “I hate you,” all the time. Well, it IS pretty horrible. I did not realize I said that phrase often enough for my son to not only notice, but to also use it on his younger sister.
I came home late from work one day. My husband mentioned to me that he overheard our son whispering, “I hate you,” to his baby sister. Of course, my husband got very upset. He proceeded to lecture our son throughout the day about how mean it was to say those words and even sent Victor to his room to play alone and think about what he said.
My immediate reaction was shock and disappointment. I went straight to our son’s room to discover why he would say that to his sister. Knowing that he already received enough discipline from my husband, I just opened a conversation with him.
Me: Victor, I know Daddy already talked to you about saying, “I hate you.” It’s not a nice thing to say. Did you know that?
Victor: I know that. Daddy already said that.
Me: So then why did you say that to Jolie?
Victor: You say that allllll the time to Auntie Ga on the phone.
He looked up at me with so many tears in his eyes that my chest tightened. I was responsible for his strict discipline that day. And he probably did not realize that hurt and pain are the usual flavors for “I hate you.” I usually say it jokingly to my friends as a phrase of endearment (pretty tasteless, I know). Victor most likely thought that “I hate you,” was simply a funny thing to say and then he unfortunately got in trouble for it.
This was just another quick eye-opener for me to really scrutinize what I say. But I also found it very, very interesting that Victor pictured that phrase as a funny one in his head. It is cool to see that the way we use and say words affects the way children interpret them. I can start saying “bogus,” in a way that sounds angry and Victor will think it is a bad word. Not that I will ever do it that…
Now, on to running!
I ran my first official trail race since giving birth to Jolie. It was 6 miles. It kicked my ass. I fell UP the mountain within the first five minutes of starting the race. Embarrassing? Not really. I have always been the prototypical clumsy person who trips on her own feet. However, I gained a pretty wicked scar on my knee. I did not realize how badly I injured myself until the race was over. It looked like a lacrosse ball had grown on top of my knee. Flesh was visible. Blood was EVERYWHERE. Sorry, no pictures for the gore-thirsty people.
Despite the unsightliness of the scar, I am glad I have it. Reminds me to always be hyper aware of my feet while on trails. More importantly, it reminds me to be more present. I used to think that mindfulness was a load of spoiled marshmallow fluff fed to us by self-help gurus. Now, I try to practice it daily.
It is easy to escape into your head to hide from the reality in front of you – to hide behind a mindless game or a mind numbing book. However, I found that when I simply revel in the moment, I am more content. This “moment” could be anything from washing dishes to watching my kids sleep or play. Any moment can be profound if I just choose to be fully present. I am still no where near the zen that Eckhart Tolle promises. I am only trying to slowly stretch this sense of presence throughout my entire day.
Alas, I must end this here. Sleep beckons, and my mind cannot drum up a pertinent closing to this post.
Zero to Thirty 