"Don't Cry Over Spilt Milk"

is the mantra that runs through my head, when I'm trying to find a Zen place in the face of a day’s worth of toddler chaos. Unfortunately, a few hours into said day, I start talking back to the voices in my head.

“But this is the THIRD time she’s literally spilled her milk! You said I can’t cry. What about screaming? PLEASE let me scream, please! I’ll feel so much better,” I say plaintively.

Some days, I do scream….but I don’t feel better.

Other days, I remember that I actually subscribe to the philosophy that making messes is part of the process of learning. On good days, I teach my daughter a spirit of experimentation and a love of discovery, unencumbered by the fear of the outcome of her endeavors. I remember that I really love this quote from Roald Dahl.

(Dahl was referring to stuff like climbing trees, but giving a toddler a glass of milk qualifies as “risk” in my book.)

On good days, I give her the space to make messes, so she can learn to clean them up. I show her that mistakes can be opportunities and that mistakes can be fixed.

I am a believer.

What no one told me was how much tension would exist between my tolerance level for chaos and my philosophy about how to grow a healthy child and learner. 

How about when motherhood seems a feat of endurance? Bad days where the disaster around me seems to be keeping pace with my internal state of mind. Days when I feel less of an idealistic teacher and more like Sisyphus.

That's when it's best to let go the mantle of both idealist and Sisyphus. I need to strip away my beliefs about how things should go.

Nothing stands between Claire and me -- our relationship is at its most essential.

I see a child just being. I see a mom loving her child and her child's beingness very, very much.

At the heart of the matter, that's all we need to remember.

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Welcome to The Sunday Parenting Party, hosted by Dirt and Boogers, Play Activities, Crayon Freckles, Taming the Goblin, The Golden Gleam, Prickly Mom, and The Tao of Poop. The SPP is place for readers to find ideas on nurturing, educating, and caring for children, as well as honest posts about the stresses of being a parent or caregiver. Links to reviews and giveaways are welcome as long as they are relevant to the topic. All parenting philosophies are welcome with one exception: please do not link to posts promoting physical discipline, as this is something we would feel uncomfortable having on our blogs. (P.S. By linking up you agree that your post and photos are Pinterest, Sulia, G+ and FB friendly. We will be showcasing ideas on The Sunday Parenting Party Pinterest board.)

 

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The Highs and Lows of Parenting

I've noticed that the writing on this blog swings between two wildly, opposing tones. I either can't believe my good fortune to have such a lovely, beautiful and strong daughter, or I find Claire to be the most frustrating person on the planet.

I have posts that practically beatify my daughter. I talk about about how much I learn from her. I wax about her growth. I marvel at her grace and kindness, her bravery, how smart she is (sometimes all of these wonderful attributes flow forth from me in a single, reverent post).

Then there are is the writing in which I'm counting down the minutes until I can hand her off to her father. I complain about how she doesn't listen. I bemoan the appearance of toddler tantrums. I talk about how hard it is to be a parent (there are too many posts to link for this one, although this one will do).

I must admit I'm becoming paranoid that my readers find me a tad bit schizophrenic (and that my daughter is going to catch on soon too).

Yet, I've noticed a similar swing in other mom blogs too, so maybe I'm not alone. Janine from Confessions of a Mommyholic writes about expecting the usual fight with her daughter, and sharing a precious moment with her instead. Deb at Urban Moo Cow expresses her desire to get the weaning process over, only to discover that she mourns the loss of breastfeeding after it's done so quickly.

Before I had Claire, I had plenty of schizophrenic relationships. I'm no stranger to bad-boy boyfriends, who I would describe as addictions and who certainly weren't good for me. In those relationships, the ups and downs were part of the attraction, and seemed to keep things exciting in a codependent, neurotic kind of way.

Funny, I would never describe my relationship with my daughter as an addiction. She is definitely good for me, and schizophrenic is the wrong word too.

Really, this ebb and flow is a rhythm inherent to the parent/child relationship. It's one of the fascinating, maddening, confusing and beautiful things about parenthood.

Being a mom stretches you in ways you could never imagine -- to the depths of despair and the heights of grace. These two states seem wildly opposing also. In reality, they are both at the heart of what makes us human.


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