Expectations of kids

I took four small children to a Christmas concert yesterday, hosted by the State Orchestra. We have been going for years – ever since the eldest was a baby. Each year I see proud mums drag their little darlings along bedecked in tinsel in hair and handmade Christmas outfits. I watch just about every other child stand and dance in rhythm to the music,clap and sing along to well known tunes and generally interact with the show.

I watched my four charges carefully yesterday. The 13 month old was the only one totally engaged – wriggling and clapping to the music. The other three sat in a row – staring directly forward with little expression on their faces. I stopped myself begging them to enjoy them selves, or asking them to stand up and join in.

The program was designed for small people – full of interesting information about the Orchestral instruments in a story format, interlaced with well known Christmas tunes and interaction with the crowd by a well known children’s presenter.

I desperately wanted my kids to look like they were enjoying themselves or taking in the rich music presented. As I looked about the room full of twirling Christmas fairies, a cold knife stabbed deeply into the mother guilt heart. Perhaps if I had played classical music to the more as babies or whilst in the womb they would be enjoying the excerpts from the nutcracker. Perhaps if I had enrolled them in toddler dance classes they would feel more confident to stand and twirl with the rest of them. Perhaps if I made the time to sew frocks bedecking them with ribbon and appliqué, then I too would look like a mother who cared about the development of her children. Instead as I looked down at my food encrusted shirt I was certain was clean when I got in the car to come, I look like a skanky harassed hag. At least I wasn’t nagging them to stand up – but if telepathy existed their brains would have been fried with my inner shouts and pleas.

I then thought of the autistic kids I used to teach and sent a blessing to those parents – thinking about what they must go through – the unconditional love they must hold for their kids. Feedback is such an important aspect of a relationship - and I was gaining little to no feedback from the three stooges as they stared into space within the concert hall.

The concert ended and I had ensured that I had sung Christmas Carols loudly and had clapped and cheered at he end even if the plebs I took did not. AS I buckled the kids into the car, I hesitatingly asked if they had enjoyed the morning; whilst calculating what other things I might have done instead of wasting money on these tickets.

Oh Mummy I liked the songs

No – the drums were best

I liked the horn player

That man was silly with his reindeer horned hat wasn’t he?

SO – You did like the concert then?

Oh yes – the resounding replies were. Can we go next year?

I reflected as we drove off on whose enjoyment I was expecting. My kids are very introspective in any case – but I might have expected at least one of them Miss Show Off to have joined in the fairly ring which had spontaneously erupted in front of us during one of the tinkling songs.

You just never know do you? Who am I to place what I believe is enjoyment onto their beliefs? I was just trying to placate the mother guilt beast and to show off myself – to all the other show off mums; all of us desperately trying to convince the other that we are good parents.