No one teaches you how to be mindful and joyful in your parenting journey. It’s something to learn as you go, through practice and application, but it involves a lot of choice. A lot of choosing who you want to be and how you ultimately want to parent.
Besides that, it seems to me that there are some days where you just have to choose, on a sliding scale, between varying degrees of failure as a parent. It’s like voting: at this present moment in time, which lesser evil will I cast my vote behind. Choices, choices, choices…
Shrinking villages
Perhaps it’s due to the “shrinking villages” theory for why the culture of parenting just seems harder. Less connection, a pandemic, or in my case, being No Contact from my parents.. and most of Nathan’s family lives on the other side of the country from us.
You take one look at anything posted on social media, ESPECIALLY the Gentle Parenting Mom FB groups, and it’s like: Okay, so you want to tell me exactly how I should raise my children, exactly how I’m ruining them, but nobody wants to help with my children? Get outta here!
You know what would help me to be more mindfully present and joyful in my parenting? An actual day trip or an overnight somewhere with my husband where I could spend the whole time missing and worrying about my children…instead of throwing my hands up once a day, muttering to myself “Lord, I can’t do this anymore”.
There’s something laughably cathartic about saying that though. Psh, what choice do you have, sis; suck it up and at least be a mediocre Mama today!
All’s Well
After a really rough sleep regression night with Nova (it’s miraculous that she finally went down by midnight…on a night that we were planning on getting to bed early, no less), Orson was actually in a much better mood today. We had some hiccups here and there, but nothing major and nothing that I couldn’t constructively deflect and redirect.
We went on a morning walk, had snacks, watched a little Bluey and played. There was minimal aggression between the babies, they went down for a nap easily, and I went to a dentist appointment.
I have to say, having a dental hygienist cleaning my teeth while watching “Nailed It“ feels like the pinnacle of relaxing getaways right now. That’s where I’m at mentally.
Came back home, worked on updating my babies’ scrapbooks and teenager’s recipe/scrapbook (it’s a graduation present, shhh!), and once they woke up, we went and played outside in the driveway. They’re super into chalk and feeding rocks to the front-porch dog statues; it’s seriously all the rage. All in all, it was shaping up to be a fairly chill day, especially for a Monday.
Dinner Time
But then, it was dinnertime. Orson hit a point of exhaustion hard enough that when he wasn’t flinging placemats and bowls and spoons and cups absolutely everywhere, repeatedly, he was resting his tired little head on the table. I don’t blame the guy; come 5PM, I’m struggling to keep my own eyes open anymore. And his sister didn’t sleep, so how restful was his sleep?
Where does the line get drawn? Do I react out of some future-fear that Orson will grow into a disobedient sociopath because he threw spinach on the floor after we told him not to? Do I have patience and compassion with him at this moment, even though I worry about laying the groundwork for more disobedience?
I know that when I’m exhausted, even as an adult, I have a hard time being cooperative, but I’m going to hold a toddler to a higher standard than the one I hold myself to, as an adult? What is the lesser evil here?
Failure and Growth Toward More Joyful Parenting
I really don’t know most days. It feels like failure. Maybe it’s not. I know my husband feels the same way because we discuss it frequently. Maybe the culture of parenthood feels harder now because parents are striving to be more self-aware, honest with themselves, embracing humility to grow instead of just saying “Do it because I said so”.
At least, that’s what we’re trying to do, but it is a slow, grueling marathon, not a race, and we’re on the freaking struggle bus…we just hope it’s heading in the right direction.