This morning, I recognized an example of change in my parenting. After dropping the boys off at school, I pulled into the garage, unloaded the baby and, with one hand unbuckled Everly and stood back to let her climb out on her own.
Everly had her own ideas. She decided to use her regained freedom to climb around the Sequoia and stop to inspect all the interesting things to be studied on each of the three rows. Hmm, switches turn lights on and off. Hmm, my brothers' carseats are very cool. Hmm, oh good, a secret stash of Kleenex, I do need to wipe nose. Hmm, I was looking for this shoe. Henry's seat really is cool. I think I'll just sit here for awhile. Wonder what I have to do to get a seat like this. Wait, does this thing have cup holders? Oh good. Wow, they slide into a little hiding place. Out. In. Out. In. Nice. I really like this. Wait, do my cup holders pop in and out? Hmm. Let me try. No. Henry's seat is pretty much the best one in this whole car. Ok. I think I'm done here. Oh look, the neighbors are out. I think I'll go over and say "hi."
As I stood outside the car, with the baby on my hip, I gazed at Everly in all of her glory. I had pulled her straight out of bed and put her in the car in order to get the boys to school on time. I completely shifted my idea of getting her into the house to eat breakfast and get dressed so the morning could proceed according to my schedule. I realized there was nothing that had to be done by a certain time on that particular day. I chose to let Everly decide when she was ready to get out of the car. After a few minutes, she had looked at everything she wanted to look at and climbed out on her own.
If this had been Henry or Gavin, things would have gone very differently. For one thing, I was more busy and stressed when they were toddlers than I am now. I probably would not have had much time to spare and would have become irritated and anxious to get the toddler out of the car so that we could get on our way. I also felt that if I gave an instruction, like "get out of the car", that I must enforce it if they did not obey. I would have said "you may get out of the car yourself, or I will help you." I would have given them to the count of three to choose to mind, then I would have gently (or not so gently) removed a screaming, tantrum-throwing kid out of the car and then proceded to dress and attempt to feed a screaming, tantrum-throwing kid breakfast.
I would have gone through this routine thinking that I had to enforce a command. If I didn't, wouldn't I wind up with a spoiled, out-of-control kid? Now, I'm not so sure. I am highly motivated to achieve peace in my home. For someone with a quick temper and a low tolerance for frustration (I am talking about me) that is really a nice idea but with 5 additional personalities and 5 additional sets if needs and wants is really not realistic.
I used to have an idea that if I just had a process for every detail of our life and if I just trained everybody well that everyone would always know what was expected of them and do it without complaining and then we would have peace and order in our home. The problems with this level of order are many and they begin with me and continue with my husband and spill out onto our children and onto the messy floor.
Besides drinking coffee and taking a shower every morning, I do not like to do the same things at the same time everyday. I've learned that it is impossible for me to order much of a schedule because I am impulsive and desire the freedom to be spontaneous. So clearly, I am not meant to run a household like a navy ship.
The next problem with my idealistic orderly house and family is my husband. He has his own ideas about how things should be done and if he thinks his way is better, he does things his way. No discussion. We have had lots and lots of fights about meaningless household stuff. I'm done. I'll take all of the help I can get. If he wants to wash a load of laundry that is completely mixed up. Fine. It's not worth a divorce. Boom. Peace.
Finally, my perfect household and family management ideals are squashed daily by four beautiful little angels aged 6, 5, and almost 2 and 6 months. They need what they need when they need it. They're little tyrants, actually. I used to think that managing their wants and needs to fit my wants and needs was good parenting. Kids need to learn that the world doesn't revolve around them and all that. But lately I have learned that enforcing lots of limits and schedules brings the exact opposite of peace to our home. It brings strife. It brings anger, hurt, resentment, and leaves me feeling worthless because I can never measure up.
So I take deep breaths. I notice times of peace and carefully examine the details surrounding that moment. Everly happily explored the car for five minutes before getting out. I let her have her freedom. I understood that she had been taken from a crib and strapped in a carseat and that those were her first moments to herself that day. Had I taken her out of the car and put her through additional routines, she would have protested. She would have cried and tantrumed and objected as a toddler objects. She would have felt injustice because it would have been unjust. Her real needs would have been ignored for the sake of perceived needs and it would have all felt incredibly unfair.
Instead, I chose peace. I didn't just slow down, I stopped. I noticed a beautiful child, in a beautiful, simple yet profound moment. Messy hair, pajamas and all. A child who needed a few minutes to touch and feel and experience the car more than she needed her hair brushed and to eat breakfast. I needed to enjoy my daughter's beauty and to marvel at her explorative spirit more than I needed to rush through a morning routine.
