My small world is in the midst of a baby boom. Two co-workers gave birth on the same day this week, another has a sweet seven-month-old boy. My sister and brother-in-law are the proud parents of a four-month-old son and three more friends are expecting wee ones before the year is done. I don't envy them; my pregnancy was probably my favorite time in my life but I do not have any desire to relive those newborn baby days. (The only thing I really miss are the teeny clothes, and, with all these new babies around, I still get to shop for those without having to think about all the laundry they will create.) The journey is just beginning for them, and I wish them all well.
A couple of months ago I wrote that being a parent isn't as hard as I thought it would be. That remains true, even though we're getting deeper into the 'terrible two's'. There are days that my daughter and I are in sync and move along together easily, and days when she declares her independence and wants to hear nothing from her mother. When the sun sets on either kind of day, I can rest peacefully, more or less. Mornings bring new opportunities and we start fresh. But that's not to say I don't go through periods when I worry, or worse, second-guess myself. Am I good for my daughter? Do I teach her enough, do I let her watch too much television, do I feed her enough of the right foods? Will she fail at school because I didn't breast feed long enough? Will she have image issues because she watched me put on make-up? And will it be too late to fix any mistakes I'm making now, when I realize the damage has been done? Who do I think I am, bringing a person into the world with the audacity to think I could raise her?
We women are tough on ourselves, and that makes us even tougher on other women. We can be harsh and judgemental. I see the eyebrows raise if my daughter gets a little too loud in public. We are not afraid to ask each other when our little ones reached their milestones, and we cannot help but measure our kids against each other. We are reaching out for validation and approval, but bristle when we hear a different take on parenting than our own. I've only been at this for two years (more if you include the pregnancy) and I've been on and off the field in this mommy game. And while my teammates are very supportive, the opposition can be crushing if my confidence is slipping. And lately it has been.
I want my girl to come out strong and smart, responsible and true. To be respectful of all things and to treat her world as she would wish to be treated. I want her to own her choices and decisions. To know that with every lie or broken promise there comes a consequence. To be proud of every path she takes, no matter the outcome, and to not hide behind shame or dishonesty if she makes a bad move. To never feel entitled to anything, except maybe love. That is the goal. How old she is when she is finally potty-trained (or gives up the pacifier or the crib...) is not a measure of good parenting. It is a conversation piece. I firmly believe this, and yet these days I've allowed myself to be up for comparison.
Today was a day off from work. Days off are a mixture of joy and guilt-- joy because I get to spend them with my girl, and guilt because I need to get things done. As we rushed around from errand to errand, I worried that she will just remember her days with me as blurry car rides from store to store. That I wasn't giving her enough nurturing, that she was on her own to figure out the world as I dragged her around it. When we pulled in the driveway, I asked her if she was ready to go inside. She said no, thank you, she just wanted to sit in her carseat and watch the birds fly. So there we sat. In those moments I knew that she will be just fine. And, at least for a little while, I am no longer playing defense.
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In the midst of all this parental self-doubt, I managed to get rid of a few more things toward my goal of 1,000...
17 previously-used gift boxes
15 partial rolls of gift wrap
2 spools of ribbon
1 box of Christmas cards
1 pile of random tissue paper
20 gift bags
3 more empty shoeboxes = 59 + previous 503 = 562 things
You know how you know you are a TERRIFIC mother??? You worry about BEING a terrific mother. Some days will be perfect and others we will feel like failures but it all balances out in the end. They will see the hard work AND the silly moments. I personally, think you are one of the best mothers I've ever known and your beautiful, brilliant, funny little girl reminds us every time we see her.
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