I know that if I go up the stairs, their noisy toys will be strewn about, a fresh large pile of laundry will be piled high, and definitely, a lot of squished blueberries will be on the kitchen floor. Right now, I am writing this in my office, in a half-finished Midwestern basement. We’re all working on ourselves we all are growing to meet each other’s needs. We kind of grow into each other’s needs.”Īnd when you start thinking about it this way - about how everyone, at any age, is slowly uncovering the world at their own pace, with their own talents and blind spots and idiosyncrasies - there’s a lot of hope. A fellow mom, Stephanie, shares: “My parenting skills would grow as my child grew. It’s a humbling pill to swallow, but watching your kid grow is a constant reminder of how much we as adults are constantly growing, too. In fact, one of the more effective methods of parenting is trying to discover the world with them - expanding your own horizons - rather than exclusively imparting them with the small lens you’ve been looking through. Kids are obviously a work in progress - but then again, so are we. Ta-da! Parenthood done.īut if you go about it this way, you’re missing the point (and a lot of fun). And in that limited line of thought, it can be easy to assume that your job as a parent is to take this clay in the form of a baby, and mold it into the kind of adult you see fit - you know, one with good table manners and a marketable degree. Toddling around with mashed avocado on their face, or echolocating in muffled monosyllables, it’s like they’re an entirely different species. Sometimes little children can seem a lot like mini pre-humans. Truly, the amount of love living in this world is phenomenal. Sometimes, I find it crazy that we haven’t died out by now as a species until I remember the amount of love I feel for my two boys, and then multiply it by billions. Obviously, no parent is perfect - and the headlines routinely remind us of the horrible ones - but the fact that the human race exists completely boggles my mind when you think about how much effort goes into one person. From the famous CEO to the barista at your local coffee shop, everyone was born as a naked, helpless infant - utterly dependent, requiring years of devotion and sacrifice just to survive until kindergarten, nevermind learning how to read. Let me remind you: every single human being starts out as a tiny baby. There is a shocking amount of love in this world. Which is apt, because swords are dangerous, like parents. It’s honed slowly and painfully - welded over time, kind of like a sword. Or even, from what much more experienced parents tell me, 18 years. But over the weeks that turned into months, that turned into years, I’ve learned that the “supercharged” parent version of yourself doesn’t happen in a week. These might have been my last coherent wishes because for the next nine weeks, I didn’t sleep at all (oh, and by the way, non-parents, sleeping through the night by nine weeks means he was a good sleeper). You know - instant bonding, sudden mommy intuition, phenomenal cosmic parent powers. “The distractions melt away, and you’re faster and more focused.” Okay, so I knew this mystical transformation to parenthood wouldn’t happen instantly, but I expected some sort of acknowledgment from my brain - a dormant part of my cerebrum would light up like a Christmas tree, giving me magical, loving directives on what to do next. “You become a supercharged version of yourself when you have a kid,” my dad had told me years before. How the hell was I ever going to keep up? “Nothing will be the same again,” they told me over and over - yet I felt exactly the same. Hearts were shining in my eyes straight toward him, but a strange sense of panic was starting to seep in me. The moment where everything changes, and you’re a wise, efficient, multitasking luminary. If I was an emoji, hearts would be pulsing through my eyes. I sat there, fixated, watching him calmly breathe, fingering his teeny toes. Two hours old, already napping, my little man was here, cozy in my arms, and I couldn’t stop staring at his miniature perfection. Eager, sweaty, and far fatter than I ever thought I’d be, he was here.
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