Why I Start Their Cars

I admit it--I probably do too much for my children.  I do all their laundry; I bring them hot chocolate and coffee to their rooms in the morning to wake them up, and I start their cars on cold mornings so they're warm and defrosted when they're ready to leave for school.  All of these things they can and have done.  (SK did her own laundry for over a year until I realized that I only had one year left of getting to do it, so I asked her if I could do it again.)  I've been challenged by some as to why I would do these things (challenged in a friendly fun loving way), but these challenges have definitely had me thinking a lot over the last few days--thinking and trying to put into words why I do what I do.  And to put it bluntly, the answer is, "because no one ever did it for me."  There is nothing that reminds me of a warm and loving home.  There are no traditions or smells to remind me that I always have a place to return where I am loved unconditionally.  (There were some mornings when Daddy started my car as he left for work--and I remember feeling loved and warm and protected as I got in the car. This combination of feelings were rare for me; I don't want them to be for my children.)

Don't get me wrong; I know my mother loved me and loves me and we certainly were well cared for as we were growing up, but we weren't nurtured in the way I wanted to be nurtured.  Our home had stimulating intellectual conversations, good meals and high expectations, but tender nurturing--not so much.  I remember when a friend of mine in high school said that right after she was married she was taking a shower and started to cry because the towels didn't smell like her mother's and it made her miss her mother and the love she showed.  I vividly remember her telling me that, and although I was not yet married--didn't even know Chris then--I thought, "That's how I want my children to be; not sad but to remember our home as one of love, security, and care."  And I realized then that all the words in the world wouldn't create that environment--our deepest needs are satisfied through the actions of others and our memories are triggered through our senses.

Fast forward a few years and I began to create "rituals."  One of these was lotioning up the children with scented baby lotion after baths.  We had a song we sang as I rubbed them each down with lotion. I hoped that in the process of soothing their dry skin my love would also seep into their pores as I carefully massaged their skin, to be remembered and brought out when they most needed it.  Recently Boss told me after he babysat one night that when he smelled the baby lotion he remembered the song and sang it to my nephews.  He also added that he was fairly certain I continued that ritual well after the age appropriate stage--  

So I light a scented candle at the bottom of the stairs every morning so the household wakes up to a nice smelling home; I bring them hot chocolate and coffee to their beds; I search diligently for the right combination of laundry detergent and softener; and I start their cars when it's cold.  (I also decorate SK's lunch bag and always use holiday appropriate napkins--hadn't admitted to that yet; now the cat's out of the bag--or on the bag depending on how I decorate it that day.)  Our mornings aren't perfect (there are even times I go on strike), more times than I like there are cross words spoken and feelings hurt.  When they leave stomping out of the house, slamming doors and barely brushing my cheek with a kiss, even if they don't overtly recognize it then, I hope the warm car in some ways reminds them of my love and that regardless of how cold and difficult the world can be, there is always a warm place to return.  A place where they will be loved and accepted. Truthfully, there are some mornings, I'm so annoyed with them that I have to force myself to do these things but I remind myself that this is about something bigger than they spoke to me unkindly or they didn't pick up their towels AGAIN, this is about unconditional love and building a home where that is the foundation.  I pray that in the years to come they will remember those cross words less and the actions more.  I pray that whenever they get in a warm car, when they smell a familiar candle or drink hot chocolate/coffee they will be enveloped in a feeling of love and care.  I pray that these small acts that I love to do (yep it really is about me) will be reminders that they have a soft place to fall, reminders that they always have a home that is waiting for them--waiting to envelope them in love whenever they need it.  And most importantly I pray that they will pass that love onto others.

Don't know if they're good reasons--but they're mine.