Week 108
Olive,
There are so many things to teach you. Sometimes I feel like every day and every moment is a chance for a life lesson. Lately, the pressure to turn you into a perfect little person has been suffocating and we haven’t had much fun.
After feeling, once again, locked in a power struggle with you, I took some time to really reflect on what I’ve been doing and why I’ve been doing it. It was hard to shine a harsh light on the truth but it was needed. Mommies make mistakes, too.
My most important job, Olive, is to help you stay confident, assertive, creative and independent. Now is not the time to make you sit still, always say please and thank you or force you to fit the mold of what society thinks makes a good little girl.
When I approached one of your teachers for advice, she asked me whether I was making a decision based on what was better for you or what would make me look better as a parent. I am so grateful for the coaching your school provides because being told that was like being doused in cold water.
Her saying those words, words that I have said and reminded myself of many times in the last two year, was the touchstone response that I needed.
I let a few comments said behind my back sway the parental path I was on. And I’m sorry that I doubted the child you’re becoming. We’ve haven’t had the easiest month and I felt especially vulnerable to criticism. It’s been cold and snowy and we’ve had to miss a lot of school. Your molars are coming in and you are in a lot of obvious pain.
With each major leap you make, I find myself doubting how I parent. Some of this is because of the way you make leaps. Your leaps are huge and fast. You leave me behind in the dust and scrambling to catch up. And even though I’ve been anticipating them, I still find myself caught off guard by the changes. You learning to talk was not different. It’s not that you couldn’t talk before, it’s just that now you can express your opinion so precisely and synthesize information so much better.
Every interaction became a teachable moment. I felt this enormous pressure to get it right. To explain it perfectly.
We’ve always done things a little differently and you’ve thrived in that environment. I promise that we’re back on track and that I’ll give you the empathy that you need to get through the tough times.
…
I wrote this a few weeks ago and the changes in you and to our relationship are tangible. I let go of what other people thought of us and returned to how I normally parent you and the results were instantaneous. It helps, also, that your molar has broken through and you are much more of the laid back, compliant child I’m used to.
I’ve started apologizing to you for the minor transgressions that make up our week. I’ll tell you that I should have let you explore longer and not rushed us to lunch. Or that I should have been more patient with you when you were having a hard time. I hope that hearing me apologize makes you quicker to assume responsibility in the future and more sympathetic to what other people are going through.
I still feel like there are too many things in a day to teach you but I realize that not every one of those lessons will be delivered through my actions or my lectures. So, Olive, I’m giving you permission to run about, ask me to pick you up and touch disgusting things on the ground. Go ahead and make mistakes, test your boundaries a bit and see how mommy reacts. Sometimes I’ll surprise you by giving you the nod and smile that tells you it’s okay to keep exploring and sometimes we’ll take a moment to talk something through and define a boundary. Either way I want you to feel safe and loved and for you to know I’m always proud that you’re my daughter.
Week 108
Olive,
There are so many things to teach you. Sometimes I feel like every day and every moment is a chance for a life lesson. Lately, the pressure to turn you into a perfect little person has been suffocating and we haven’t had much fun.
After feeling, once again, locked in a power struggle with you, I took some time to really reflect on what I’ve been doing and why I’ve been doing it. It was hard to shine a harsh light on the truth but it was needed. Mommies make mistakes, too.
My most important job, Olive, is to help you stay confident, assertive, creative and independent. Now is not the time to make you sit still, always say please and thank you or force you to fit the mold of what society thinks makes a good little girl.
When I approached one of your teachers for advice, she asked me whether I was making a decision based on what was better for you or what would make me look better as a parent. I am so grateful for the coaching your school provides because being told that was like being doused in cold water.
Her saying those words, words that I have said and reminded myself of many times in the last two year, was the touchstone response that I needed.
I let a few comments said behind my back sway the parental path I was on. And I’m sorry that I doubted the child you’re becoming. We’ve haven’t had the easiest month and I felt especially vulnerable to criticism. It’s been cold and snowy and we’ve had to miss a lot of school. Your molars are coming in and you are in a lot of obvious pain.
With each major leap you make, I find myself doubting how I parent. Some of this is because of the way you make leaps. Your leaps are huge and fast. You leave me behind in the dust and scrambling to catch up. And even though I’ve been anticipating them, I still find myself caught off guard by the changes. You learning to talk was not different. It’s not that you couldn’t talk before, it’s just that now you can express your opinion so precisely and synthesize information so much better.
Every interaction became a teachable moment. I felt this enormous pressure to get it right. To explain it perfectly.
We’ve always done things a little differently and you’ve thrived in that environment. I promise that we’re back on track and that I’ll give you the empathy that you need to get through the tough times.
…
I wrote this a few weeks ago and the changes in you and to our relationship are tangible. I let go of what other people thought of us and returned to how I normally parent you and the results were instantaneous. It helps, also, that your molar has broken through and you are much more of the laid back, compliant child I’m used to.
I’ve started apologizing to you for the minor transgressions that make up our week. I’ll tell you that I should have let you explore longer and not rushed us to lunch. Or that I should have been more patient with you when you were having a hard time. I hope that hearing me apologize makes you quicker to assume responsibility in the future and more sympathetic to what other people are going through.
I still feel like there are too many things in a day to teach you but I realize that not every one of those lessons will be delivered through my actions or my lectures. So, Olive, I’m giving you permission to run about, ask me to pick you up and touch disgusting things on the ground. Go ahead and make mistakes, test your boundaries a bit and see how mommy reacts. Sometimes I’ll surprise you by giving you the nod and smile that tells you it’s okay to keep exploring and sometimes we’ll take a moment to talk something through and define a boundary. Either way I want you to feel safe and loved and for you to know I’m always proud that you’re my daughter.