Reaping What You Sow

“Papa!” T said excitedly as we headed off to the outdoor pool. “The corn is taller than me now!”

During the last month of school, his class went on an excursion to a farm to learn about planting and animals. Each student got four small seed pots they could each continue to care for at home.

T planted his in our backyard: corn, bean, and two flowers.

I do not have a green thumb and I leave outdoor work to the hubby.

But it was fun to watch the plants grow through T’s eyes, as he regularly checked on “my children.”

Oh, you can imagine the hysterics when one of the two flowers died. 🤣

You reap what you sow.

The energy we give to the world is the energy we invite back into our lives.

As a caregiver, I believe that what we give to our children is harvested one day – the crop is unique and personal to each family.

We help our children find the right space to grow – light their way, nourish their mind, hydrate their soul, pollinate connections, and weed the bad stuff.

When a plant struggles, the gardener changes the environment in which it’s growing, to help it thrive.

In early summer, T harvested his handful of beans and enjoyed them for dinner. 🥰

Nature is resilient.

I recently listened to a podcast where a mom said she wished she enjoyed her adult autistic daughter’s childhood more. But she was so stressed about the daily challenges.

It made me realize that we can fixate on things, like T initially watching the soil and wondering when something would sprout.

I’m learning and getting a lot better at finding the balance between watering the plant and to stepping away – and to have faith that growth happens when we let children be.

This past Saturday, our outing to the outdoor pool got off to a rocky start.

I told T we had to leave by 3, because rain was expected at 5. He said he didn’t want to go swim anymore so I took a nap.

He storms into my room at 4 asking to go swim and I told him it was too late.

Cue the meltdown, running outside to scream at the hubby, who was mowing the lawn, that I was being a bad parent.

I told him that if he wanted to go then he needed to calm down first.

It took a few more rounds of him screaming what a bad parent I was before he calmed down. 😂

As I backed the car out, T said he wanted to let the hubby know we were leaving.

As he exited the backyard, he told me excitedly about the corn being taller than him.

It was his first time seeing it after over two weeks, as we were away visiting his grandparents in New Brunswick.

During our drive, I told T that I was glad we both turned the afternoon around.

I asked him what he learned from this incident and he said he needed to be calmer when he asks me to do something for him next time.

Then I told him I learned to set an alarm when I take a nap so I don’t oversleep.

When we arrived at the pool, dark clouds were gathering. There was a handful of people, so we basically had the pool to ourselves.

For an hour, we played, splashed and laughed, oblivious to the darkening clouds – the earlier meltdown, a distant memory.

Photo at top: Sunrise on our last morning in New Brunswick earlier this month. I enjoyed watching seagulls on the beach, while people were asleep.