You don't always get what you want

"You don't always get exactly what you want," I tell my four-year-old son, "but sometimes things work out for the best anyway." I repeat this statement several times a week. He is four, and the subject comes up a lot, "but I wanted to do it NOW!" and there are many common variations.

What is the lesson here? Life is full of values waiting to be had. Focusing on attaining the precise circumstance and refusing to be happy at a minor alteration is a common trait for two-year-olds and more often than one would expect carries strongly into adulthood. Relaxing and finding a way to enjoy what you can achieve at the moment, leads to a happy and productive life.  This, of course, is not a reason to give up on achieving perfection, but focusing on little steps and little joys will help us get there.

I decided to take a watercolor class with a relative.  I was psyched. We have shared the joy of art for many years and this would give us a chance to do something we love, bond while doing it and achieve a higher skill in this important endeavor.  However, the universe had apparently conspired to poison the experience. First, the hardware store did not have (or did not know it had) the particular item we needed. I improvised and used some creativity while my artistic partner was sputtering and preventing me from figuring out a substitution.  "This will not work!  It will not be right! Don't you understand what we need it for? It has to be just so - and nothing else."  "Would you like to skip the class?" I offered as it seemed to be the only alternative. "If you don't have any better ideas, then just stop and let me do what I think is right!" I finally yelled. Then got what turned out to be a very reasonable choice.

I wound up going alone after all as she got sick. Coming home, I proudly showed the piece I created: a study in painting snow, no less (shown above)! I was thrilled at the things I learned. "Well, did they teach you how to apply watercolor to the paper? Did you work on wet? Did you learn how to use brushes? Did they at least explain about how the different types of colors behave?" She was getting shrill as my answers were a little vague: "Well, we kind of learned as we went along. There were tips as we were working through the study." "This is NOT a class in watercolor!" she was furious. "This was important to me! They are not teaching you anything! It's worthless! I am getting screwed!" The tirade went on and on with tears streaming.

I was distinctly reminded of Lily (2 yrs) who shrieks and throws herself on the floor because she is offered a toy instead of an item of her desire.  Of course, the adult in question had a better explanation than Lily usually does.  "I set the bar high, because these are my standards. Why would you ever settle for mediocrity? Why would you accept something that's worthless?" It became clear to me now that the lesson I teach my kids so consistently about finding value in their life cannot be taught to someone who has been making herself miserable with toddler-like tantrums for many decades. On any given day, there is something in such a person's life that's not regrettable, or even disappointing, but is offensive and a cause for misery. Such misery becomes part of her identity and I get the distinct feeling, it's as important to her, as shadows are to painting snow.

It's sad, and I feel pity - that emotion, which is diametrically opposed to respect and admiration.  I am also sad because I will not get the shared experience I so wanted, going together, painting, learning and laughing. That said, it's an amazing class and somehow, I'll find the joy in it all by myself!