I recently broke my toe, I’ve mused about the real significance of a baby toe in a former life when I had time to laze on the beach and simply look at my toes but it turns out that this tiny digit is really important in my current life. Hobbling along is not compatible with Parenting Pace! It was a freakish accident where in a dash to get to the ice cream shop in Pringle Bay my daughter and I collided, two rapid thoughts raced through my mind in the middle of the road with tiny humans, firstly “that doesn’t look right” (*baby toe snapped and pointing backwards) and a short lived moment of joy as my girls sympathetically asked, “mommy are you ok?” I mention short lived because it was rapidly followed with the chorused concern “are we still getting ice-creams?” Through my pain I made a mental note that we need to work on empathy.
Why I would like to share this story is because once home during our family chat at dinner that evening we discussed the problem of “the toe” and I listed all my needs for support. The list was long and my 4year olds were pretty wide eyed during the conversation as I listed more and more jobs I would be expecting them to assist with. What I failed to mention was that I would be navigating our home like a bear with a sore….toe. Grumpy, intolerant, unpredictable and throwing the mightiest of pity parties. Life without Digit 10 (every injury needs a code name) has been challenging. My daughters did tackle many of the additional jobs I asked them to do but with the intermittency that is the right if a 4 year old living with a parent who is not their “happy” self. A huge win was their ability to figure out they could keep mommy supported by mastering my Nespresso machine. However even with Nespresso magic my high frustration levels filtered into many moments at home and work where my tortoise gait and speed did not serve me. I also learned that when I’m super frustrated I still stamp my foot, just like I did as a child. This was quite a realisation about how I regulate my nervous system and a behaviour I would have honestly denied until I climbed into bed at the end of a long day and dropped my tea all over it. It was all a little comic after that as I stamped my foot, wailed in pain and then had the alarming realisation. (*this is a topic for another day)
Hobble forward one week later to a second conversation in our home. During this second chat I asked the girls if they had noticed that I had not really been in a great mood and had been pretty ratty since injuring myself! Well their observations of my behaviour were very accurate and exceeded my list of needs in length, after listening I took some time acknowledge and commiserate with their experience of me and to thank them for all they had been doing and that I had been taking for granted and then I really apologised for my justified but very grumpy demeanour. As is the wonder of a child the love and forgiveness was immediate, my injury was kissed to feel better, loads of tape and plasters applied and my apology accepted with the response that left me smiling, “don’t worry mommy, in our home we are kind and work as a team even when you’re old and grumpy!” I love these conversations. They are wise beyond my years.
Let me wholeheartedly interject here that I love being with my children. They are the most wonderful humans to be around, and I genuinely enjoy “us.” In the interest of further, total transparency, I will clarify that this emotion pervades 80% of the time we are together. The other 20% is a more dramatic scene filled with tears, arguments, tantrums, toys flying, squabbles, rejected meals, mess, laundry, sleep deprivation, and epic failures, and that is just my behaviour. Add the kids’ developing emotions to this equation, and it can be the perfect storm on some days.
It is in this chaotic blur that a more unwelcome friend often shows up in her finest attire and enjoys a starring role in the backlash and dramas that can come and go unexpectedly: GUILT.
GUILT is quick to grab any opportunity to take over my inner dialogue and point out my parental and personal failings. On this topic, she demands justification for daring to choose more time away from my children and consider an evening out with a friend. She quickly lists evidence to further her cause, pointing out the time I lose with my children at school, my work, exercise, extra-murals, sleeping, and any appointment that does not include them. The weight of the idealised
role of mother, with the help of Guilt, can pervade much of my decision-making around taking time out for myself until she is told (lovingly but firmly – I am a parent coach after all) to simmer down and take a “guilt-free” pause, with me.
From this space, I can confirm that playdates do not qualify as adult outings, and just as my children need their community, I also need my village people. (And yes, my mind did interject with an inspired visual of my friends dancing and singing in the musical of my life.) It was time to act and arrange a mom-ME dinner with my “Wednesday” friend. Fortunately, my children could deeply relate to the fun of being with a friend, and after a few preparatory chats, they waved kisses as I left, on board with the plan for the evening.
One gazillion words between friends later, I walked away from dinner towards the homeward drive, in a word, recharged. My inner dialogue made the mental reminder of how important it is to do this even if it means a late night. 9pm! Guilt was nowhere in sight. She had probably headed to the nearest night club. The only club I was headed to was club duvet. The Wednesdays are rare, but the gift of being seen and heard in complete sentences holds significant, long-lasting, reciprocal impact.
My life and parenting journey are made richer and easier by Wednesday, a generous witness as it turns out to the chapters of my story. Wednesday shared a quote over dinner from the movie “Shall We Dance.” It stuck with me, and I went home to find the quote because, although about the concept of marriage, it summed up beautifully why my tank was fuller, my laugh lines had new additions, and why I felt good at the end of our time together.
“We need a witness to our lives. There are a billion people on the planet. What does any life really mean? But in a marriage (insert tribe), you’re promising to care about everything–the good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things–all of it, all the time. You’re saying your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice. Your life will not go unwitnessed because I will be your witness. I’ve got your back.” – Shall We Dance
I felt good. I am not alone. It takes a village to raise a family. Find your people. Monday, Tuesday, it matters not. Meet with your “Wednesday” friend and experience the power of a real tribal community. You are not alone.
