As I was getting Nell ready for her nap just now she looked at me and asked "Mommy, do Princesses wear underwears?"
I just stared back at that gleam in her eye and knew exactly where she was headed with that question. She wanted me to say no. And she wants to be a princess.
She then proceeded to put her naked little bummy (the princess is wearing a dress today) on my furniture, my pant leg, and even the fridge -- to which she immediately giggled "that feels cold!"
These are the things I want to remember. I don't necessarily want to announce them to the whole world (ooops), but my hope is that twenty years from now I will remember these silly little moments in mothering.
I hope I remember how natural it seemed to remind Nell "We don't put our naked bums on the couch." You end up saying a lot of weird things as a parent, and I hope I remember some of the silly ones.
I hope I remember the admiration of strangers -- grocery shoppers turning every which way to try and sneak a peek at my cute shopping buddy.
I hope I remember the tender moment(s) I shared with Reid last night when he couldn't fall asleep (how is it possible that two minute cat naps reek such havoc come bedtime).
He kept coming out of his room to use the bathroom, and rather than angrily sending him away I decided to listen. To actively listen. We sat in the hallway, and he told me the things that were on his mind. I repeated them back to him as simply as I could.
"You wish you'd had more time to play with your dinosaurs today." ...
"You didn't have enough time to play with me today." ...
"Having J----- come over makes it so you can't play with me as much." ...
"You like having J----- over and want him to keep coming." ...
"It's hard to go to Preschool right after J----- comes over." ...
"It would be nice if he was in the PM class with you." ...
We spent a good five minutes locked in conversation like this. I was really grateful I didn't try to control the conversation or get fixated on the dinosaurs (that we ended up carrying to his bedroom so he would remember to play with them first thing in the morning). The root of his problem was obviously the adjustment we are all making to having a couple extra kids in our home a few days each week (and that cursed pre-dinner cat nap).
I'm trying not to solve my kid's problems for them anymore. The hardest part is actually recognizing when their problems is theirs and not mine. If I had thought Reid's feelings were my problem and not his I would have offered solutions or asked questions. "Should we stop having J----- over?" Had he said yes I would have created my own problem! Or "Don't you like having J----- over?" Which he obviously does, but it's more meaningful that he came to this conclusion on his own.
I also took the time to calmly tell him why Ben and I get frustrated when he keeps interrupting us at night (Ben was out Home Teaching). I explained to him that nighttime is the best time for us to get grown up things, like the budget, done. I then showed him our mint.com page and explained that budgeting means trying to avoid red lines and only having green or yellow lines. I reminded him that mom and dad like time alone together. And that's why he can't sleep in my bed with me just because he wants to (in the end, even I didn't get to sleep in my bed -- I spent last night in the nursery chair, holding a cranky Coraline).
I sent him back to his room three different times, and I was clearly frustrated by his whining. But we communicated instead of jumping into a power struggle. I listened to him work out his problem, and then I encouraged empathy by explaining my own feelings and problems.
And yes, all of this is coming from a parenting self help book I read a month or two ago. That's okay. I would also like to remember I tried my best. I gave it my all. I worked diligently at improving myself. And though there are daily struggles (like rough nights in the rocking chair), I enjoyed this journey called motherhood.
I just stared back at that gleam in her eye and knew exactly where she was headed with that question. She wanted me to say no. And she wants to be a princess.
She then proceeded to put her naked little bummy (the princess is wearing a dress today) on my furniture, my pant leg, and even the fridge -- to which she immediately giggled "that feels cold!"
These are the things I want to remember. I don't necessarily want to announce them to the whole world (ooops), but my hope is that twenty years from now I will remember these silly little moments in mothering.
I hope I remember how natural it seemed to remind Nell "We don't put our naked bums on the couch." You end up saying a lot of weird things as a parent, and I hope I remember some of the silly ones.
I hope I remember the admiration of strangers -- grocery shoppers turning every which way to try and sneak a peek at my cute shopping buddy.
 |
| This girl loves to give away smiles for the crowd. |
I hope I remember the tender moment(s) I shared with Reid last night when he couldn't fall asleep (how is it possible that two minute cat naps reek such havoc come bedtime).
He kept coming out of his room to use the bathroom, and rather than angrily sending him away I decided to listen. To actively listen. We sat in the hallway, and he told me the things that were on his mind. I repeated them back to him as simply as I could.
"You wish you'd had more time to play with your dinosaurs today." ...
"You didn't have enough time to play with me today." ...
"Having J----- come over makes it so you can't play with me as much." ...
"You like having J----- over and want him to keep coming." ...
"It's hard to go to Preschool right after J----- comes over." ...
"It would be nice if he was in the PM class with you." ...
We spent a good five minutes locked in conversation like this. I was really grateful I didn't try to control the conversation or get fixated on the dinosaurs (that we ended up carrying to his bedroom so he would remember to play with them first thing in the morning). The root of his problem was obviously the adjustment we are all making to having a couple extra kids in our home a few days each week (and that cursed pre-dinner cat nap).
I'm trying not to solve my kid's problems for them anymore. The hardest part is actually recognizing when their problems is theirs and not mine. If I had thought Reid's feelings were my problem and not his I would have offered solutions or asked questions. "Should we stop having J----- over?" Had he said yes I would have created my own problem! Or "Don't you like having J----- over?" Which he obviously does, but it's more meaningful that he came to this conclusion on his own.
 |
| Nell is the pink glove by the swing, Reid is the body at the bottom of the slide, and the others are our extra friends. I had six kids five and under in my care today. |
I sent him back to his room three different times, and I was clearly frustrated by his whining. But we communicated instead of jumping into a power struggle. I listened to him work out his problem, and then I encouraged empathy by explaining my own feelings and problems.
And yes, all of this is coming from a parenting self help book I read a month or two ago. That's okay. I would also like to remember I tried my best. I gave it my all. I worked diligently at improving myself. And though there are daily struggles (like rough nights in the rocking chair), I enjoyed this journey called motherhood.
*** Book is titled Parent Effectiveness Training: The proven program for raising responsible children By Thomas Gordon
1 comment:
Love the post. Those kids are growing up too fast...
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