It's 1:00 PM on Saturday afternoon and she's knitting a pair of mittens with tinker toy sticks in her pajamas on our porch that is currently unwalkable (due to her craft supplies/toys strewn all over it).
When she was a baby/toddler I remember telling people, "I still agree with all the advice I gave parents for all those years (while working for a child development/parent support organization), it's just that now I know how hard it is to actually do all those things I suggested.
These days I can't hardly believe "those" days were real. Like, they're surreal. I mean, was I SERIOUS? And the things is, I WAS. I was serious, and it's...ludicrous in a way that is hard to believe was my reality. Six years later and three kids under my belt and all I can say I know about raising kids is that it's a wild ride and that once you're on, your're on. That's it. That's all I know, dear children: I'm your mom and I won't leave you.
Last week in therapy I was actually doing an "empty chair" exercise where I stumbled upon that realization in a way that clicked for me. I was supposed to pretend Sophia was sitting in the empty chair and express to her her how I feel without worrying if it's developmentally appropriate/helpful, and that's where I sobbed out this:
"I don't know what to do to help you, but I will never leave you."
And then I switched chairs, wiped my eyes, and pretended to be her responding to me and "she" said to me:
"Good! I hate it when you act like you know everything." And also, "What the hell, you're my mom, you're supposed to know everything. Hmph!"
And my therapist laughed and laughed.
I've been thinking about how unexpected his response was and also about how much I liked it. And how if I had to sum up my child rearing philosophy, maybe it would be all of that combined.
"Dear offspring,
I don't know what's best, but I know I'll never leave you. And confidence in those two things means I get to cry and laugh a lot while I raise you, and that makes for a very rich life. So, thanks!"
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