Mister Rogers is in My Neighborhood
With a newborn, days feel like months and months feel like years. Therefore, I’m very excited to celebrate my son’s 9 months. As much as I’m astonished by the way my son has developed, I am even more astounded by how much I’ve matured. People ask me what life is like as a mother now and I can only describe it as being like one of those expanding spheres that kids play with:
Love, relationships, responsibility, and housework is harder, deeper, and yet more meaningful all at the same time. My life before parenthood was this parallel universe where I existed in this same body, however could get piss drunk without a thought. Obviously, things are much different now and getting piss drunk today entails losing control of my body. And to lose control of myself is to lose all care for my baby. That idea alone is terrifying.
A couple weeks ago, I stumbled upon a Mister Rogers Neighborhood LP titled “You Are Special.” I watched his show as a child but playing it for my son was something really special. His messages are so simple but carry such depth.
These days, I play it for my son daily. He sits for two 15-minute sessions during the day and we will listen to the entire album. I face him outside so he can watch the bees, birds and trees in the backyard. I feel like it’s a good habit to form instead of being bombarded nonstop by our daily distractions. He gets 30 minutes a day to just sit, listen, watch nature, and be still. We started off with 5 minutes a day, and ultimately worked our way up to 15 minutes at a time. He happily sits there now and gets excited at every song change.
This super neat article about Mister Rogers revealed that the LP I found was one of his earliest records because it’s spelled “Misterogers.” This 44 year old record teaches my son about different types of emotions and feelings we have, our good days and bad days, and about the different types of people we meet in life. I’m learning to be a mom and sometimes the reality of it all, or perhaps the weight of it all, is scary at times. But then, I have to remind myself that I am special, that sometimes I have good days and bad days, and that there will be all different sorts of people I meet along the way. Although I’ve lived 315 more months than my son, the lessons he’s beginning to learn are the same ones I’m still trying to process.
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