The Sensitive Soul

Tuesday, 2 July 2013

BabyMoo is at a stage where he doesn’t like to take baths or showers, or to have to brush his teeth. I tell him that he’s stinky, and he shoves his armpit to my face and runs off, in lieu of getting worried and taking a much needed scrub down. I complain that he’s being rude, and the hubs tell me that I only have myself to blame because I always lift up the boy’s arm to ‘mock-sniff’ and then declare that he’s stinky after play. You really can’t win with two boys ganging up against you!

Last week, he threw a tantrum when I asked him repeatedly to take a shower. After the nth time of telling him nicely and asking him to walk into the bathroom on his own, I totally lost it. I grabbed him and herded him off to take a bath, and of course, this made him scream with added on dramatics. When he wouldn’t stop, I yelled at him even louder, and on hindsight, we must have made a comical pair – with each of us trying to out-yell the other and win.

DaddyMoo walked in, and asked me what’s going on. I didn’t hear him the first time round, and he had to raise his voice to ask me again. There we were, shouting at each other above the kid’s shrill screams, when suddenly, we realised that we were the only ones shouting. BabyMoo, at that point, had simply bowed his head, and only his muffled sobs could be heard.

When I dried him, he clung on to me while I explained to him that I really don’t like to raise my voice at him, because I don’t like being angry with him. If only he could just listen instead of trying to push his limits, everyone will be much happier. He laid his head on my shoulder, and mumbled ‘S’ry Mummy...’ (which incidentally was the first time I’ve heard that coming from him!).

It made me cry, those words - great racking sobs which refused to subside, perhaps because I was also tired, and that I had taken a little bit of life’s demands out on the kid. I apologised to him. For taking things out on him, and for turning into a monster.

What I didn’t bargain on was him defending me.

As the hubs lay down next to him, he suddenly pushed him away. He muttered: “Diddih, Go’way!” turned his back on Daddy, and hugged me close. At first we couldn't understand the vehement reaction, but finally figured it out when after repeated questionings, the boy said, sadly – "Diddih ‘ngry Mehmee".

It took all my willpower not to break down again. Perhaps he isn't used to us talking to each other in raised voices. Maybe he didn't like the vibes emanating from our verbal exchange. Maybe he misunderstood the conversation, which centred around the hubs trying to stop me from screaming my head off at the kid, and me trying to explain to him that I've had it with BabyMoo always treating me like I’m chopped liver.

He thinks that Daddy is angry with me, and he doesn’t like that. It was surprising because he didn’t think that Daddy is at fault, even though I was yelling and the hubs wasn’t. I was so overwhelmed and shocked into embarrassment because in his eyes, this little boy of mine feels that I could do no wrong.

***

I remember when BabyMoo was a wee bub, I used to tell the hubs that at times, I have this weird feeling that he has an ‘old soul’. When he asked me what made me draw that conclusion about a baby not yet able to even walk, I didn’t know what to tell him. It seems farfetched, even to myself, but this notion came about perhaps a mother just ‘knows’ things.

We used to have one sided conversations, the boy and I, and he would hold my gaze, in a penetrating way which calms me even in the most trying moments. He responds to me according to my moods, and perhaps some of you may think I’m mad – but I truly believe that he really understands me.

Fast forward two years later, and now I have a pre-schooler who talks non-stop, expanding his vocabulary as the days go by, but at the same time, listens well too – even when he isn’t supposed to be listening in. Well, sometimes we forget and have an adult conversation, not giving due credit to this little boy who has recently made me more and more convinced about my initial suspicions.

Perhaps in a different time and age, and if I were a different person, I will be worried about him having too sensitive a soul. Many times, sensitivity is attributed to be a ‘girlish’ trait, but I feel that’s a very narrow minded view of a characteristic that has its strong suits as well. Furthermore, if you knew BabyMoo, you will understand where I’m coming from. He’s as boyish as a boy could be, he plays rough, picks up a toy gun and instinctively knows how to handle it (even Mummy didn’t!), and there’s nothing he enjoys more than messing up the bed wrestling with Daddy.

Being a sensitive soul has many gifts as well as drawbacks. It’s been said that such persons have an unconscious ability to understand people and things more intensely than others can. I don’t know for sure how this will translate to his growing up years, but this is a reminder for the hubs and I, as his parents, to constantly watch what we do and say.

For the sensitive soul, the life inside their thoughts is as active as the life around them. They are emotionally sensitive and are easily influenced by others' emotions. They often feel that in the grand scheme of things, they can make an impact or affect an outcome. I don't know why I'm even surprised by the boy's reactions to many things. I should know better – because I’m one, too.




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2 comments :

  1. Sophie is one sensitive girl too. Though she may appear tough but she's the kind that gets hurt by harsh words than a scrap on her knee. The other day, I told her that if she still don't learn to sleep by herself, she's not going to have a birthday celebration and that she's still a baby. She sobbed. Silently. And when she stopped, she told me it's because I hurt her feelings for calling her a baby... *sigh*

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    Replies
    1. :( See lah these kids! Always know how to tug our heart strings!

      Makes parenting so much more challenging, ya? Best part I realise is - the tougher they look, the more sensitive they are!

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