We’re All Mad Here

I’ve been thinking lately about how parenting is like Alice’s Wonderland.  It’s a world where nothing makes sense and you feel like you’re going to lose your mind if you don’t get out.  There’s little people telling you what’s right is wrong and what’s wrong is right.  It’s a world where you can ruin everyone’s day by giving someone the green cup with the purple lid, instead of the Dory cup with the straw that flips up (and happens to leak more than the Titanic after it hit the iceberg).  It’s a place where pancakes are really “princess cakes” and for the love of all that’s Holy, you better not call them otherwise.  All of this while going without sleep like you’ve been in some kind of torture camp since the day these amazing little dictators were born.  Seriously, it’s a good thing they’re cute.

I’ve said before how much I worry.  I worry about everything that has to do with my kids — their eating, sleeping and pooping habits, their attitudes and coping skills.  I worry that I worry too much – and other times, that I don’t worry enough.  I should really relax on this, but I have to be more firm on that.   I worry about my son for completely different reasons than I worry about my daughter.

Is there a right amount of concern?  How do I give him enough freedom without being the dreaded helicopter mom while still making sure that he’s safe? There are literally thousands of books out there that tell where this line is, but there isn’t a right answer — at least not as far as I have been able to tell.  There’s not a one size fits all for what kids need.  What works with Noah doesn’t make a bit of difference to Avery.  Think about your little people.  Have you always been able to handle them the same?  (By the way, if you only have one child so far, buckle up.  I can almost guarantee that your next one won’t be the same).

I’ve decided that I’m just trying to make sure that they are okay.  I want them to know they are loved beyond all measure.  I want them to not have to spend all of their inheritance on therapists.  I want them to know that they are good enough, smart enough, valuable and worthy.  I don’t ever want them to settle for less than I know they deserve.   I can’t think of a single parent I know that doesn’t want the same thing for each and every child they have.

Keep building them up.  Keep telling them they are worth it.  Smother them with hugs and kisses.  Soothe their fears and love away their pain.  After all, it’s a lot easier to build up a child, rather than repair an adult.  You don’t have to give in to all their requests and “I wants.”  You just have to find a way to remember what matters, and forget what doesn’t.  Does it really matter if there are dishes in the sink tonight after dinner?  Is it the end of the world if they snuck into bed with you again last night?  These days are fleeting and they will be over before you know it.

My goal: Just don’t let the kids turn into serial killers. 

Good Luck!