The street where I live...

The street where I live...

Wednesday, 13 February 2013

Parenting with Two Hands.

On the one hand...

I'm pretty sure I don't brush their teeth well enough.
They scream when I brush out their hair.
I don't give them enough vegetables.
I only ever bake from a mix, and that is still almost never.
I don't sit down and draw with them, and I really should.
I get frustrated with them within seconds of trying to get them to print.
I let them watch too much TV.
I yell too much.
I try to read parenting books and I yell and throw the books across the room.
I pretend I serve veggies raw because it's healthier, but really I just don't want to cook.
I expect too much of them.
I expect too little of them.
I haven't started them in music or dance lessons yet.
I should have started them on a second language by now.
I am so bad at establishing routines.
I let them see my anxiety.
I look at celebrity gossip on the computer when I could be reading fat important books, and they see this.
I say: "No, I'm too tired" too many times.
I give in way too quickly.
I hold out way too long.
I place too much emphasis on having a clean house.
I hide the Playdough because I hate cleaning it up.
When they do crafts I hide the messiest stuff.
I snap at them to get away so I can finish a blog post about how much I love them.
I swear.
I swear a lot.

On the other hand...

I let them see me continue to follow my dreams.
I have given them an artist for a mother.
I tell them I love them at least 50 times a day.
I have complete respect for their weirdnesses.
I notice who they are.
I bring them to rehearsals.
I dance with them.
I sing with them until they tell me to stop.
I listen around the corners so I can hear the magic in their play.
I remember how it was to be little.
I talk to them.
I don't mock them.
I am their champion.
I come when they need me.
I take the hits and dirty looks from people who don't like kids to be kids.
I let them be kids.
We show them a loving marriage.
We show them how to fight and make up.
We don't worship at the altar of quiet or still.
I let them see that creativity is essential.
I encourage them to notice beauty in light and colour and sound and movement.
I respect their fear.
I surround them with art.
I surround them with artists.
I parent from my heart and my soul.
I listen to myself.
I listen to them.
And I love them.
I love them.
I love them.
I love them.
I love them.

1 comment: