The Mess of Parenting
There is something so perplexing about realizing what you've done wrong in hindsight. Sometimes parenting feels so quaint and optimistic. Yes, I will read that book on playful parenting. Yes, I will commit to being the leader my children need me to be. Yes, I will allow them to express their big feelings and help them navigate their emotional states.
But of course, real life intrudes on my ersatz equilibrium. I set a limit, and they don't care. Or they don't seem to appreciate just how good they have it. Or I don't appreciate just how good my kids actually are. Either way, we are all messy messy humans making a mess all the time, and then dealing with the clean up.
I suppose there's no way around this. I suppose this is how they will learn to love. In this imperfect, haphazard, well-meaning but still painfully flawed way. It's probably how we all have been loved. Half the time I realize I'm not even responding to what my child is doing. He's just triggering some other hurt that I haven't dealt with. And that is categorically unfair. Yet, here we are inside this tangle.
I say I'm sorry all the time. Louie's immediate response is always, it's okay. He says this without hesitation. And I worry about it. Because it's not actually okay. Because sometimes I know I hurt him. This is a deep betrayal, and I don't want him to bury that pain. But I guess I have to allow him to process it as he needs to. And I need to recognize that his process is not my process. We're learning and growing together. Sometimes it is quite idyllic. Sometimes it is quite dark. I say to him a lot that even when he doesn't see me, I'm always with him. I hope he will understand that also means that when we've lost our connection, I'll always find a way back to him.
But of course, real life intrudes on my ersatz equilibrium. I set a limit, and they don't care. Or they don't seem to appreciate just how good they have it. Or I don't appreciate just how good my kids actually are. Either way, we are all messy messy humans making a mess all the time, and then dealing with the clean up.
I suppose there's no way around this. I suppose this is how they will learn to love. In this imperfect, haphazard, well-meaning but still painfully flawed way. It's probably how we all have been loved. Half the time I realize I'm not even responding to what my child is doing. He's just triggering some other hurt that I haven't dealt with. And that is categorically unfair. Yet, here we are inside this tangle.
I say I'm sorry all the time. Louie's immediate response is always, it's okay. He says this without hesitation. And I worry about it. Because it's not actually okay. Because sometimes I know I hurt him. This is a deep betrayal, and I don't want him to bury that pain. But I guess I have to allow him to process it as he needs to. And I need to recognize that his process is not my process. We're learning and growing together. Sometimes it is quite idyllic. Sometimes it is quite dark. I say to him a lot that even when he doesn't see me, I'm always with him. I hope he will understand that also means that when we've lost our connection, I'll always find a way back to him.
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