by Tina
It’s springtime in north Texas and the world is coming back to life again. And this fact is not lost on my two-year-old son, Sean. Anytime he spots a lowly dandelion he has to stop, get down on all fours in the prayer position and attempt to inhale the petals off the poor flower. Then he picks what is left of it and shoves it up my nose ordering me to “ell the fower Mommy!”
Stopping to ell dandelions is not something I’m wired to do because it is not on my "To Do” list. According to the Myers Brigg personality test, I am a prototype “J” which stands for Judging. J’s make decisions (judgements) and move on without looking back as they hurry from task to task in an effort to restore order to the universe. J’s do things like file papers, make beds and keep scrapbooks up to date. People labeled “J” love to make lists, do those things on the list and then with smug satisfaction and great flourish, check those things off the list. And then do they rest and smell flowers? No. There are always more tasks and another list.
My two-year-old son Sean, on the other hand, is not a J. As of now, Sean is a “T” which stands for Toddler. T's do not make decisions but rather yield to whatever urge strikes them as they hurry on their way towards creating chaos and disorder in the universe. T’s do things like shred “To Do” lists, jump on made beds, upend baskets of freshly folded laundry and all kinds of other exasperating yet adorable things that should go in a scrapbook. If there were a scrapbook.
Learning to take interruptions in stride and accepting the fact that on any given day I will enjoy the thrill of not one check mark has been one of the greatest challenges of parenting for me. The disorder of the world in which I live these days gnaws at me, thrashing and raging against the very core of my J-being. And yet it has also been one of the best things for me. Before becoming a mother, my life was about completing tasks. Now my life is complete -- even though I can’t remember the last time I saw a check mark. Sean has taken my J, wadded it up and stomped on it with both feet and fashioned it into an “L.”
L’s let dishes sit in the sink, leave laundry in the basket and let beds go unmade while they spend the day manning a pretend ticket booth for rides on a pretend train or assisting a pint-sized doctor operating on a sickly bear. The only task an “L” cares about is soaking up every delicious drop of each golden day.
L stands for lives, loves, laughs, lolls, lazes and takes time to 'ell the fowers.
Tina is a mid-40’s mom to my only child, two-year-old Sean who can easily outwit, outsmart and outplay me on any given day.