I mostly spend each day living in brief gulps from one moment to the next. In between tickle fights and time outs, I also sweat it out each day on the tightrope that is PPD and all its repercussions in my family, my health, my marriage and my sense of humor. Some days are good, some days only wish they could aspire to the high ranks of pond scum, but it's all part of my life. And it's all worth it.
Mother Bear
Children need to experience life, the good and the bad. Trying to protect them from every bump and bruise will, in the long run, actually end up hurting them. They’ll never learn the skills they need to survive (and thrive) in the real world, where not everyone is nice, most people don’t share their toys and your boss doesn’t understand that you want to be able to take a deep breath, think about a better solution and then get a do-over when you lose an important account.
I know this, logically, I totally do. And, on the whole, I wouldn’t call myself a helicopter mama, hovering protectively over my children’s every move. In fact, as time goes by I think, more and more, I am inclined to let them fight their own battles and find their own solutions. Certainly between the two of them, I stay out of the sibling battles as much as possible. The rule in our house is that you work it out or walk away. I also have a standing edict that tattling (unless someone is REALLY hurt or REALLY being dangerous) results in two time-outs: one for the offender and one for the tattler. This rule is fabulous since it makes them BOTH consider whether it’s worth it to run to mommy or if they should fall back on rule #1 and handle it on their own.
But, in the midst of all this logic, the mama bear in me still roars from time to time. I know I cannot protect them from every mean kid, unfair situation and hurtful scenario. And, let’s face it, what hurts a preschooler can seem like a great big nothing to an adult. All the same, when I hear that hurt cry and see someone treat them badly, I ache to defend and protect (not to mention punt the offender across the arena of play).
Yesterday Anna said to me, “That person wasn’t nice, mama. He hurt my feelings and I cried and he just wasn’t nice.”
Oh, how I wanted to shelter her! “I know, sweetie. Sometimes people just aren’t nice. It’s not fair but that’s just how things are sometimes. I’m sorry.”
Then, with the infinitely simple sincerity of the very young, she said, “Everyone should be nice to other people, then no one would have to cry.”
Screw logic and popular parenting mandates.
They are still little girls, my babies. Anna is 4 and Silvia is only 2. Yes, they are growing up and yes, they need to learn independence. But they’re still little, too, and you know what? I have no problem letting them know I’ve got their backs when the world is not fair. Everyone knows you shouldn’t touch a bear cub in the wild or its mama will take you DOWN.
Well, sometimes this civilized world of ours is just as wild as any natural habitat. And my instincts? They’re the same as any mother bear.
