What is My Child's Experience in this Moment?

Yesterday I took Koa (7) and Kalea (19 months) to Arena Sports to play in the bouncy house area.  Koa ran off on his own and I shadowed Kalea as she explored.  While I stood watching her through the mesh wall of the bouncy house, I heard a brash voice beside me, "Hey! Not cool, man!" 

My eyes automatically shifted toward the voice, finding a thirty-something woman. I followed her gaze into the bouncy house to the subject of her disapproval.  This "man" she was speaking to was a three year old boy who was playing with her three year old boy.  The two boys went on playing, seemingly oblivious to any issue. I observed their play: smiles on the faces of both, giggles streaming out of them as they chased each other while grasping the squishy gator-skin dodgeballs, threatening to attack. 

"Carson! You need to come out of there.  That boy is not choosing to be kind. He's already pushed you down once and I don't need that in my life."  

Carson continued to play with a huge grin until his mom pleaded with him again to come out because she didn't want him playing with someone who had already pushed him down once.   

This got me to thinking, what do we project onto our children from our past that has nothing to do with their current relationship with the present? Carson's experience in the bouncy house looked joyful but his mom's expression showed worry.  I knew anything I might say would sound judgmental, so I just stood and watched as Carson pulled the net up and scampered off with his mom. 

Kalea eventually lost interest in bouncing and toddled off to find her brother on the bouncy pirate ship.  Koa was playing with a boy who looked a bit older, whom I had seen use the inflatable three foot tall posts as catapults of sorts, pulling back at the top and releasing to playfully hit his brother and other kids.  Koa walked toward me, half-pouting, and I knew that this kid had hit him with the air-filled post.  I asked him if he was ok and if he wanted to keep playing, trying to keep my expression neutral, but feeling frustration that it's hard for Koa to let small slights like this go, or to accept them as play. 

That's when it hit me. I realized I sometimes do the same thing to Koa that Carson's mom had done to Carson by wanting his feelings to match my own. I'm guilty of dismissing Koa's feelings and undermining his interpretation of an experience because it's different than my perception. And why do I do this? To protect him.  

Carson's mom wanted to protect Carson from being hurt or mistreated.  I want to protect Koa socially.  I worry he's too sensitive and I want him to be able to let some things go. I want him to be likable, to have fun, and to understand that people don't usually try to hurt others.  I want him to give people the benefit of the doubt, to trust that his friends have his best interests at heart. I want to spare him the pain of thinking people are intentionally trying to hurt him.  

But I also want him to be able to speak up for himself and tell another kid, "Hey! Not cool, man!" if he doesn't like the way he's being treated. 

I love being a mom but it's damn hard - a constant balancing act: acceptance versus teachable moments; honoring feelings versus teaching perspective-taking: letting things go versus advocating for oneself. I appreciate the opportunity to observe the parenting of others so I can reflect on my own. I'm grateful for the reminder that it's ok if Koa's perspective is different than mine, and that I can still help him navigate situations while also honoring his feelings.  This has been and will continue to be a lesson in parenting that I need to practice.

What aspect of parenting do you find to be a repeated struggle?