You all know I love writing about seeing the world anew through Pumpkin’s little eyes and having all of her little firsts – from butterflies to ice cream – reflected back to me in her beautiful little smile. Unfortunately, my little human mirror doesn’t just reflect the love and light in the world (though she does reflect LOTS of that) – she also reflects the occasional hard, cold dose of reality that forces me to face some things about myself I am not proud to admit.
Over the past day or so, Pumpkin has been what I can only describe as ornery. She’s perfectly happy chasing the dog one minute and then screaming and arching her back on the ground in frustration the next. She’s also started the dreaded whining – something less than a cry but more than a frown, sounding something akin to nails on a chalkboard. Add to all of that a mounting and hair-trigger sense of frustration at the slightest annoyance. Seriously, once her little mind has been made up about something, the tiniest thing throwing that plan off kilter (read: a chair too close to a wall that she cannot squeeze behind like she had planned) and it’s as if the world were ending right there on my living room floor.
I have lamented about her frustration (and mine) and have received more knowing laughs than consolation. Apparently there is someone else in our home with a low threshold for plans going awry and who throws her own form of fit when everything isn’t right where, how, and when she wants it. Who you might ask (I know I did)? Well, remember that old saying about she who protest too much?
In dealing with Pumpkin’s impatience, I’ve had to learn a little patience of my own. I’ve had to reassure myself of all sorts of things like the fact that this is a normal part of her growing up, a battle between her growing independence and her need for security, and a sign of her inability to fully communicate. But I’ve also had to take a good hard look at myself and realize that the world is not going to end if things don’t go just as I planned (and who’s to say my plan was so great to begin with). Not only will the dirty dish still be in the sink when I wake up in the morning, but the sun is still going to rise despite that dirty dish.
What I continue to be reminded of is thet fact that this parenting gig is a constant learning experience and one of self-discovery as much as anything else. And though I am the first to admit I’ve got a long way to go in becoming the patient, loving, Zen-like mother I aspire to be, there are a few areas where I’ve compromised (read: lost control) in ways that I thought I never would:
1. Baby talk – I was raised firmly to believe that baby-talk was belittling and that children should be spoken to like the smart little future adults that they are. Well you know what, my “wittle Pum-Pum” just brings out the babbling idiot in me (as well as in the well-meaning mama who taught me not to baby-talk babies and who I catch doing it herself now). Of course, we are working on Pumpkin's language skills but sometimes I just have to sing-song a little jibberish to her;
2. Running around in public – I used to cringe when I would see parents letting their children toddle around dining areas or stores “exploring” (the cringe became a full on shudder when people I was WITH would do it). I would think to myself, can’t these people control their children. Well, you know what, no, they cannot and neither can I all the time. I think my fellow patrons would rather see Pumpkin peering over their lap while they eat than have her screaming and throwing things from her high chair;
3. Having a snotty/sticky/food-covered face – okay, I admit, I still cringe when I see children looking like this and particularly my own, but there are certain times when it just isn’t worth the fight, the screaming, and the tears (mine and Pumpkin’s) to wipe her face off and so, if you see crust in the corners of her mouth or under her little runny nose – feel free to grab a Kleenex yourself;
and
4. Saggy diapers – a year ago I would have sworn to you that no child of MINE would ever be caught anywhere in just a diaper. That look of a little pot-bellied baby waddling around with the crotch of her diaper dragging the ground under her used to bring out a judgmental eye roll anytime I saw it. Now all I can do is laugh. The kid likes to be naked and it’s a heck of a lot easier to get spaghetti sauce off her skin than off her smocked dresses. And, besides, I don't let her do it in public.
So, I know I’ve got a lot to learn. I strive every day to be a good example to Pumpkin of all sorts of things, and after seeing her little tantrums this week, I’ll add to that list being an example of calm and I'll try to teach her (and myself) not to sweat the small stuff. I’ll also be sure to wipe my face occasionally, keep my pants on, and stay in my seat in restaurants so she learns those things too, but I can’t promise anything about the baby talk.
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