Cross Post: This Is What A Mommy Looks Like

(This was originally posted today on my Other Blog, but I thought it should go on my mommyblog too since it's, well, about being a mommy. Sorry if you're seeing this twice in your Google Reader or Bloglines!)

I'm not really sure why we have such a fancy-pants mirror hanging in our foyer. Plus, Ted's got it hung so high, I have to stand on my tippy toes to get any use out of it. Hmmm. Looks like it could use some cleaning...

Well, speaking of mirrors, I've been doing a bit of self-reflecting on my parenting habits lately. As I've mentioned recently, being a mommy has been hard these days. We've been waiting over two years for the Terrible Two's to end for Cadence, and we find ourselves in a corner, having to reevaluate how we relate to her. I don't think we've TOTALLY f*cked up, but I do feel justified in mourning the missed opportunities to do the things that would have establisthed trust and love and connection, rather than exhibiting our need to control as parents. And it's not like I don't know better since I've read so many books in the unconditional, peaceful parenting vein, but then again I DON'T know, at least not in the deep, non-book acquired non-cerebral sense of the word.

When we decided a LONG time ago that we didn't want to raise Cadence to believe that she had to behave a certain way for us to love her, I didn't realize how hard it would be to let go of my own experiences of the way I was parented--not only by my parents, but by society at large. I didn't realize how much I would care what others thought about Cadence and our parenting skills, so much so that I would try (usually unsuccessfully) to exert a semblance of control over my child in public because that's what we as parents are expected to do in our culture: control the fruit of thy womb lest thou suffer the universal disdain and judgment of all polite society.

It's amazing how much damage you are subconsciously willing to do to your child to avoid being labeled as a bad parent. I've cared so much about what other people think that I've neglected who Cadence is and what HER needs are. She is indeed a Wild Thing, but she does NOT respond well to methods such as being sent to her room without any supper (a reference to the the book; not something I've actually ever done). There are children who modify their behavior as a result of punitive measures (at least in the short run), and then there are children like Cadence. I know deep in my heart that punishments will do her absolutely no "good," not even in the short run. People may think that's because I don't punish her long or hard enough. While I entertain the possibility that through brute force I can eventually break her spirit so that I can make a meek, obedient child out of her, please tell me why the f*ck would I want to do that?

So the truth I see in all this is that Cadence is NOT an out-of-control, "spoiled rotten" and manipulative child. She may APPEAR that way to folks who have certain preconceived notions on how a "good" child behaves, but that is not who she is, and I know that. The truth is that I am afraid to let her be her aunthentic self because of my own fears about what others think of us and because of my own ideas of how I want my child to behave. And there's that f*cking word again. BEHAVE. Why the hell are we all so obsessed w/ OUTWARD BEHAVIOR???!!!

(I realize I'm rambling here, so I feel the need to insert a photo to justify the length of this post. It's almost 4 in the morning, I haven't had real sleep since Friday night, etc. etc. etc. blah blah blah and why the heck am I apologizing on my own blog?)

Here's the thing. I don't want Cadence to be a puppet. I don't even WANT her to fit the definition of "good" that most people hold when it comes to children--obedient, quiet when told to be quiet, never prone to emotional outbursts, sits quietly at their desks and raises their hands to be called on in school, stands when told to stand, sits when told to sit. I don't want Cadence to ever fit THAT mold of "goodness," especially if it's out of fear that I won't love her unless she complies or out of fear of being punished. I DO want her to feel safe with us, her parents, to be who she is, even when that means exhibitions of strong, explosive feelings from time to time. I DO want her to feel that her opinions matter, even if they defy laws of [adult] logic. I DO want her to expect to be treated with dignity and respect regardless of her age and size.

The REAL truth about Cadence is that she is so much more honest and authentic than I am. She does not hide her emotions, be they frolicksome or furious or forlorn. Nor does she hide her true opinions and wishes. She is creative, a connoisseur of fun, full of boundless energy and can out-dance just about anyone at a wedding reception. She is also caring and affectionate and devoted to her friends. She sees the best in people and is full of optimism.

And the REAL truth about myself is that I'm proud of her and wouldn't want to change any of that.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

For those of you who worry that this means I'm going to let Cadence do whatever she wants whenever she wants wherever she wants, please rest assured that this will not be the case. However, I do plan on changing the way I react to Cadence when she doesn't get what she wants (which usually results in high pitched shrieks that would make a dog cringe). If I have the presence of mind to apply what I know and believe by validating her feelings without judgement and by responding with gentleness and love, she usually responds much more positively than when I exhibit disapproval or try to change her. Old habits are hard to break, and unfortunately, I've been programmed from my own upbringing to try to control outward behavior (in myself and in my child) rather than to embrace authenticity.

And in case you're wondering, I'm currently reading Naomi Aldort's Raising Our Children, Raising Ourselves.

This One's for Modrá J.

This little photo is for Modrá J. He'll understand. No one else has to.

"Now--here is my secret: I tell it to you with an openness of heart that I doubt I shall ever achieve again, so I pray that you are in a quiet room as you hear these words. My secret is that I need God--that I am sick and can no longer make it alone. I need God to help me give, because I no longer seem to be capable of giving; to help me be kind, as I no longer seem capable of kindness; to help me love, as I seem beyond being able to love.

I walk deeper and deeper into the rushing water. My testicles pull up into myself. the water enters my belly button and it freezes my chest, my arms, my neck. It reaches my nouth, my nose, my ears and the roar is so loud--this roar, this clapping of hands.

These hands--the hands that heal; the hands that hold; the hands we desire because they are better than desire.

I submerge myself in the pool completely. I grab my knees and I forget gravity and I float within the pool and yet, even here, I hear the roar of water, the roar of clapping hands.

These hands--the hands that care, the hands that mold; the hands that touch the lips, the lips that speak the words--the words that tell us we are whole."--From Life After God by Douglas Coupland, 1994.

(I've had this post as a draft from Sept. 30th. I thought now would be a good time to post it. I added the quote today because I had just reread it a couple days ago, and I love that passage so very much. It's part of my unraveling, just a little bit. Know that you are loved, Modrá.)