Parenting is Not a 9 Toe Job
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.