The Mom in the Mirror

If you ever want to become really introspective...if you ever really want to take a good look at yourself and evaluate what you see...have a child. I get that now. Children truly are our best mirrors. Good or bad, beautiful or ugly, whatever you throw out there will come back to you whether you're ready for it or not. The parenting boomerang.

When the reflection is positive, it's the most awesome thing ever. Like when I hear Owen reassure himself with "it okay, buddy" or celebrate his own accomplishments (however small) with "Poudda you!" When the shape sorter just isn't cooperating, it's really great to hear him say "keep tying." When he kisses his own boo-boos or rubs my back as I'm carrying him, it truly does make my eyes well up and it provides me an opportunity to recognize that he's giving what he's getting...it makes me feel so good.

But sometimes, what I see or hear in my child-mirror gives me pause for a different reason. Sometimes, I see things that I want to change. I hear how my words can sound when they are unfiltered...how they sound when uttered in complete innocence...how they sound through the mouth of a child.

Last week, we were having a bad run. I found my patience running very thin, Owen's energy level running very high and our usual connectedness a little off-kilter. The whine factor was dangerously elevated. We struggled on like that for a couple of days...him testing me and me feeling like my resources were spent. Did I mention the whining? At one point, we were driving in the car and crossed the railroad tracks. Owen's desire to see a "too too tain" wasn't fulfilled and he felt the need to make his disappointment very clear...about 32 times in one minute, very loudly. We then had a nonstop stream of "mo too too tain! See too too tain!" in that annoying toddler-mewling way. I breathed deeply. I clenched my teeth. I couldn't find it in me to comfort him so I just ignored it. He went on fussing for another minute or two when I noticed a break in the wailing and then heard a curt, "stop whining." He told himself to "stop whining!"

You know, I'll admit that I laughed about it when I repeated the story to Rob and again when I told the story to a few other people as well. But as I think about it, "stop whining" is just not the message I want to send. Well, actually it is the message I want to send but I think the envelope could use a bit of dressing up. If a frustrated "stop whining" is the best I can do, then I need to re-evaluate some things.

My last post about potty "assindents" is another example. I mean, let's face it. Asking a young toddler "why did you do that?" is like spitting into the wind. What's the point? It's really not respectful of either of us, the asking of such an inane question. Honestly, I worked with people at the med school--MDs and PhDs, grown men and women, renowned scholars--who would have struggled with a reasonable answer to "why did you do that?"

It's certainly not the end of the world. I mean considering what some parents resort to when the patience wears thin (which I can begin to wrap my brain around but NOT condone), my violations seem minor. Nonetheless, it's an opportunity to stop and choose again. And that's what I'll do.

Now, we just need to continue working on those substitue expletives and the awareness of thinking out loud. That way, when Rob is struggling with Owen about getting dressed and starts to show some frustration, Owen's response isn't an impatient "Goddamighty!"