A bit of mothering...

Rosie, our one year old border collie, is now fully grown and no longer has her cute rounded puppy nose, her delicate soft fluffy ears, and she does not fit nicely into my lap. She is still beautiful, but has the features of an adult dog.

But while she may look like an adult, she is far from behaving like one! Rosie still has the needs of a puppy, particularly to be 'mothered'. Everyday, she will find a moment to tell me that she needs a cuddle, to be nurtured, cared for, mothered. She does this very directly with a little whining "woof", or by climbing into my lap, albeit very awkwardly, and typically ending up spilling out over the side and onto the floor or couch, depending on where I am sitting. Sometimes, she also has a look of sadness that is conveyed by her entire body that communicates to me "I am feeling emotional, and I need to be comforted." She then proceeds to nuzzle into me, wrap her front legs around my neck, and if I'm lucky, ever so delicately kiss my nose.

I don't know why Rosie's behaviour surprises me, but it's something to do with the fact that she isn't a little pupply anymore. Perhaps an assumption is made that she doesn't need the doting mothering of a little puppy; an assumption made from expectations borne of living in a society where growing up often means not needing such direct nurturing, affection and displays of emotion. But she reminds me every day, that we do, no matter what our age.

My son also knows when he needs to be 'mothered', and isn't afraid of asking for a cuddle, kiss, or some comforting. He is also able to express his emotions, and knows just how he feels about something. He is currently struggling to say goodbye each morning as I take him to school. He cries, and clings to me for one last cuddle. In our efforts to work through this difficult time, we have encouraged him to cry if he feels like it, and told him how proud we are of him that he is able to express his sadness; that in fact, he is brave, because not everyone is able to do this.

At times, however, it feels like we are fighting a battle with the rest of the world, who don't want little boys to cry. Crying, it seems, is something to be avoided, something that causes the individual and others around them pain or discomfort. "We" seem to be in a hurry for our children to grow up and be emotionally independent, to not have emotional needs, to not be sad. When my son first started going to school, he was encouraged by his teachers not to cry with the promise of a special treat; a reward for not expressing what he was feeling. Instead of being comfortable with another person's sadness, we hurry to cheer them up, instead of allowing them to feel sad and being willing to feel it too.