This morning (rather, a morning last week when I started this post!) I did exactly as I pleased - I showered BEFORE I got dressed and got dressed before I ate and I didn't feed another human before feeding myself.
The quietness of children absent from the house is deafening.
It's impossible not to notice. It's nice for a change.
What I like best about this quietness is that it makes me realize that I actually prefer the noise, the chaos, the whining, the squealing, the questions, the laughter.
Things like showering, dressing, and eating without interruption are somewhat overrated when compared with filling up tiny minds, tiny souls, tiny hearts, tiny bellies.
Parenting is a huge responsibility. A huge privilege. And a huge lesson - think you're patient? hang out with a two-year-old for a day. yikes.
If you've spent time around a toddler, you know they can be quite demanding. Some of their demands take little effort to grant, but others are quite impossible and may even go so far as to require bending the laws of space and time. These are the requests that cause me to realize that she thinks I'm a super hero.
When you know nothing about the world and can make very few things happen the way you want them to, a person who can provide you with food, security, knowledge, and entertainment pretty much is a super hero. Discovering the limits of my super powers is as frustrating and frightening to her as it is to me, if not more so.
Boy oh boy, have I discovered a lot of limits I didn't know I had. If there's one thing that can cure the need-to-be-needed personality, it's having needy kids. It's kind of adorable when you only have one, but when you have more than one, neediness starts to feel impossible, annoying, and exhausting. Neediness has always irritated me - so much that I've made a conscious effort to not be (read: not be perceived as) a needy person, rather a strong, independent person - which makes it interesting that I also enjoy meeting needs and sometimes identify as having a need-to-be-needed personality. Having needy children turned the tables and made me feel quite needy myself - which I hate (that probably had something to do with what made the transition to two so difficult, but I'll write about that another day). Enjoying being needed without allowing myself to need in return exposes my pride. It makes me feel superior to fill a void in someone else that I don't have in myself. How ugly.
That's just what parenting does - exposes who you really are. Children are little mirrors running around mimicking everything you do. Apparently I either slap my knee or throw my head back when I laugh really hard. I didn't realize that I add emphasis by clapping my hands with each syllable I speak. I people-watch (read: stare awkwardly for way too long) more than is considered acceptable. And do I really twirl my hair and brush it out of my face when it wasn't in my face to begin with? Am I that sarcastic? Do I tease that often? The things I say and the way I say them sound a lot uglier coming out of her innocent little mouth. But I'm a super hero, so why shouldn't she be just like me?
Speaking of being just like me, she's been called my little twin. I've always tried to have a healthy self-image (read: ignore self-image entirely because i know i'll never be satisfied if i let myself focus on it and that's so shallow and needy anyway). Now that I have a baby twin mimicking my every move, it seems even more important that I not ruin her future self-image either by showing her how to look in the mirror and sigh or by critiquing parts of myself that people may one day tell her look just like her mother's. If I teach her that my nose is too big, how will she feel when someone comments that she has her mother's nose? Right now she sees all people as beautiful. Although she's already obsessed with pretty clothes, jewelry, and styling her hair, she seems to know that none of that is necessary to be beautiful.
No matter how we see ourselves, our kids see us as beautiful superheros. I have no doubt this will change at some point (hello, teenage years), but for now I'm trying to embrace it. I'm trying to accept the fact that although she's learned a lot in her three years, I'm still her lifeline and she is insecure and helpless without me. I'm trying to slow down and think before I speak because I'm sure to be hearing it again. I'm trying to see her, myself, and everyone around us the way our Creator sees us because she's likely to see people through my eyes, at least for a while.
What a responsibility; what a privilege.
The quietness of children absent from the house is deafening.
It's impossible not to notice. It's nice for a change.
What I like best about this quietness is that it makes me realize that I actually prefer the noise, the chaos, the whining, the squealing, the questions, the laughter.
Things like showering, dressing, and eating without interruption are somewhat overrated when compared with filling up tiny minds, tiny souls, tiny hearts, tiny bellies.
Parenting is a huge responsibility. A huge privilege. And a huge lesson - think you're patient? hang out with a two-year-old for a day. yikes.
If you've spent time around a toddler, you know they can be quite demanding. Some of their demands take little effort to grant, but others are quite impossible and may even go so far as to require bending the laws of space and time. These are the requests that cause me to realize that she thinks I'm a super hero.
When you know nothing about the world and can make very few things happen the way you want them to, a person who can provide you with food, security, knowledge, and entertainment pretty much is a super hero. Discovering the limits of my super powers is as frustrating and frightening to her as it is to me, if not more so.
Boy oh boy, have I discovered a lot of limits I didn't know I had. If there's one thing that can cure the need-to-be-needed personality, it's having needy kids. It's kind of adorable when you only have one, but when you have more than one, neediness starts to feel impossible, annoying, and exhausting. Neediness has always irritated me - so much that I've made a conscious effort to not be (read: not be perceived as) a needy person, rather a strong, independent person - which makes it interesting that I also enjoy meeting needs and sometimes identify as having a need-to-be-needed personality. Having needy children turned the tables and made me feel quite needy myself - which I hate (that probably had something to do with what made the transition to two so difficult, but I'll write about that another day). Enjoying being needed without allowing myself to need in return exposes my pride. It makes me feel superior to fill a void in someone else that I don't have in myself. How ugly.
That's just what parenting does - exposes who you really are. Children are little mirrors running around mimicking everything you do. Apparently I either slap my knee or throw my head back when I laugh really hard. I didn't realize that I add emphasis by clapping my hands with each syllable I speak. I people-watch (read: stare awkwardly for way too long) more than is considered acceptable. And do I really twirl my hair and brush it out of my face when it wasn't in my face to begin with? Am I that sarcastic? Do I tease that often? The things I say and the way I say them sound a lot uglier coming out of her innocent little mouth. But I'm a super hero, so why shouldn't she be just like me?
Speaking of being just like me, she's been called my little twin. I've always tried to have a healthy self-image (read: ignore self-image entirely because i know i'll never be satisfied if i let myself focus on it and that's so shallow and needy anyway). Now that I have a baby twin mimicking my every move, it seems even more important that I not ruin her future self-image either by showing her how to look in the mirror and sigh or by critiquing parts of myself that people may one day tell her look just like her mother's. If I teach her that my nose is too big, how will she feel when someone comments that she has her mother's nose? Right now she sees all people as beautiful. Although she's already obsessed with pretty clothes, jewelry, and styling her hair, she seems to know that none of that is necessary to be beautiful.
No matter how we see ourselves, our kids see us as beautiful superheros. I have no doubt this will change at some point (hello, teenage years), but for now I'm trying to embrace it. I'm trying to accept the fact that although she's learned a lot in her three years, I'm still her lifeline and she is insecure and helpless without me. I'm trying to slow down and think before I speak because I'm sure to be hearing it again. I'm trying to see her, myself, and everyone around us the way our Creator sees us because she's likely to see people through my eyes, at least for a while.
What a responsibility; what a privilege.
Rachel,
ReplyDeleteThis is so well written and also something I plan on filing away in case I ever raise a daughter (or any child, for that matter). As someone who also needs to be needed, I identified with a lot of this and can definitely imagine how this would effect parenting. Even though I don't get to see you in person very often (accept for all those Miller weddings), I really enjoy following along as you and Steven figure out parenting. It seems like you are both doing an incredible job.
Cousin Abby
Thanks, Abby! What a kind, encouraging comment! Glad you enjoyed the post. Wish we lived closer. <3
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