Back in 2006, when my first child was in Kindergarten, I was asked to chaperone a field trip that the class was taking to a local farm. Activities included picking through a pumpkin patch, going on a hay ride, scarecrow building, and observing the barnyard animals. During our visit to the animal pens they introduced us to these two ducks that showed up on the farm and made their home among the chickens. Now, what was so unusual about these ducks was that rather than quacking, they "clucked" like their new chicken friends! They did everything that the chickens did, but they were obviously NOT true chickens. Immediately I began to feel a kinship with these confused little creatures who were trying so hard to fit in all while fooling no one!
I had left the house that day feeling all the excitement that a parent feels during a "first"--first birthday, first day of school, first REAL fieldtrip...you get the point. Then, when I arrived at my daughter's school that morning I was suddenly filled with the same kind of dread that you got in high school when you realized that you were wearing the shoes that went out of style last month but you had just gotten them--they'll do, but they aren't the jam anymore. All the other moms were in, what I call, "Impress the Other Chickens" gear--full hair and make up, dressy slacks, embroidered sweaters (Lord help me), high heeled boots, designer PURSES, for crying out loud, and there I was...Dressed to Impress No One in jeans, a hoodie sweatshirt, my trusty baseball cap (Go, Yanks!), and the oldest pair of sneakers I own because, well, we were going to a FARM. I felt so out of place. Looking at those two awkward little waddlers in a coup of strutting hens was like looking in a mirror. I was a Chicken Duck. I had inhabited the coup but was fooling no one as I waddled around with my head angled slightly downward and diligently made my way through all of the fluffed up Chickens who naturally stood tall and strutted about admiring each other. Sadly, my duckiness only got worse as the day moved on. While meeting the rest barnyard animals, did I linger several paces back with the rest of the hens? No. Without a thought, I sat down in the middle of the paddock and allowed my face licked by the sheep! One would think that the looks of horror I received would have been comical, but to me, at the time, they were nothing short of incriminating. There I sat in the middle of a barnyard animal pen, looking like I was literally raised in a barn. My defiant nature pushed me to stay the course--never let 'em see ya cry, right? So, I got up, dusted myself off (literally), and moved on to the next part of our tour...the building where they incubate the eggs. Incredibly, as we turned the corner from one row of eggs to the next, the farmer stopped us. One of the eggs was about to hatch! We all got super excited at the prospect of watching a new life come into this world and moved in for a closer look. The shell split at the tip and a little bill peeked out...it was a duck! All of the Chickens were ooohing and ahhhing and postulating on how this tiny duckling is the "sweetest thing EVER!", and all I could think was "Go figure. This duck is cute now, but wait 'til it tries to be a chicken--you'll just laugh at it." I took my daughter's hand in a solo showing of solidarity and subconsciously put myself between her and the Chickens.
We finished out the day and headed back the way we came--some of us (namely me) significantly dirtier and less enchanted than when we first arrived. That evening at dinner while playing our nightly "Best Part/Worst Part" game, I sat anxiously wondering what my daughter was going to say for her "The Worst Part of My Day was...." I worried that she picked up on my Chicken Duckiness and, as a result, I had embarrassed her in front of her classmates who had mother hens who knew how to stay clean. Luckily, we start with the Worst so we can end with a high note, so I didn't have to wait long and therefore avoided a "JUST SAY IT ALREADY!! I'M A TERRIBLE MOTHER!!!" moment of screeching insanity that would only have resulted in tears and more embarrassment...but, I digress...
I had left the house that day feeling all the excitement that a parent feels during a "first"--first birthday, first day of school, first REAL fieldtrip...you get the point. Then, when I arrived at my daughter's school that morning I was suddenly filled with the same kind of dread that you got in high school when you realized that you were wearing the shoes that went out of style last month but you had just gotten them--they'll do, but they aren't the jam anymore. All the other moms were in, what I call, "Impress the Other Chickens" gear--full hair and make up, dressy slacks, embroidered sweaters (Lord help me), high heeled boots, designer PURSES, for crying out loud, and there I was...Dressed to Impress No One in jeans, a hoodie sweatshirt, my trusty baseball cap (Go, Yanks!), and the oldest pair of sneakers I own because, well, we were going to a FARM. I felt so out of place. Looking at those two awkward little waddlers in a coup of strutting hens was like looking in a mirror. I was a Chicken Duck. I had inhabited the coup but was fooling no one as I waddled around with my head angled slightly downward and diligently made my way through all of the fluffed up Chickens who naturally stood tall and strutted about admiring each other. Sadly, my duckiness only got worse as the day moved on. While meeting the rest barnyard animals, did I linger several paces back with the rest of the hens? No. Without a thought, I sat down in the middle of the paddock and allowed my face licked by the sheep! One would think that the looks of horror I received would have been comical, but to me, at the time, they were nothing short of incriminating. There I sat in the middle of a barnyard animal pen, looking like I was literally raised in a barn. My defiant nature pushed me to stay the course--never let 'em see ya cry, right? So, I got up, dusted myself off (literally), and moved on to the next part of our tour...the building where they incubate the eggs. Incredibly, as we turned the corner from one row of eggs to the next, the farmer stopped us. One of the eggs was about to hatch! We all got super excited at the prospect of watching a new life come into this world and moved in for a closer look. The shell split at the tip and a little bill peeked out...it was a duck! All of the Chickens were ooohing and ahhhing and postulating on how this tiny duckling is the "sweetest thing EVER!", and all I could think was "Go figure. This duck is cute now, but wait 'til it tries to be a chicken--you'll just laugh at it." I took my daughter's hand in a solo showing of solidarity and subconsciously put myself between her and the Chickens.
We finished out the day and headed back the way we came--some of us (namely me) significantly dirtier and less enchanted than when we first arrived. That evening at dinner while playing our nightly "Best Part/Worst Part" game, I sat anxiously wondering what my daughter was going to say for her "The Worst Part of My Day was...." I worried that she picked up on my Chicken Duckiness and, as a result, I had embarrassed her in front of her classmates who had mother hens who knew how to stay clean. Luckily, we start with the Worst so we can end with a high note, so I didn't have to wait long and therefore avoided a "JUST SAY IT ALREADY!! I'M A TERRIBLE MOTHER!!!" moment of screeching insanity that would only have resulted in tears and more embarrassment...but, I digress...
Per my daughter:
Worst Part--"When we had to leave the farm."
Best Part--"When mommy sat in the middle of the animals and held the babies for me to pet! It was the first time I got to pet a lamb!"
To this day I don't think that she understands why her mommy burst into tears over that. At the time, I really didn't either. If you had asked me in the moment, I would have said that I was relieved not to have embarrassed her--and that was part of it; however, I have realized over the several years that have passed since that day that there were much deeper lessons to be learned. While I spent a great deal of energy that day focusing on how awkward I felt, I allowed myself to be drawn away from the wonder of that day. That day wasn't about me. It was about celebrating some of my daughter's firsts--her first field trip, her first time on a "real school bus" (as she called it), her first trip to a farm, her first time to witness life come into this world and her first time petting a lamb. None of those firsts had anything to do with the first time her mommy realized that she wasn't a Chicken.
Lessons learned:
1. Being present in a moment also means realizing that it's not always about me and my moment. My self centered, negative and insecure thoughts took me away from the beauty of the day.
2. You don't have to be a Chicken and you don't have to be a Chicken Duck (a duck who wants to be a chicken but it just isn't in the cards for it to be so).
Final Thoughts:
It's ok to be a waddling, quacking, awkward Duck. Under all the rough and tough or strut and fluff--we're all a little foul. The world needs a little more duckiness and hopefully those around you will learn to experience life in a more unique way. You need to feed your inner ugly duckling with knowledge, experience, compassion, understanding, presence, and a good sense of humor about yourself and it will grow into exactly what it is meant to be--a healthy, beautiful DUCK!
Love this (and your other posts) and would like to talk to you about re-publishing on Rocket City Mom. Email me at editor(at)rocketcitymom(dot)com and we can talk about the details.
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