When I was a child, I would get defiantly upset at being subjected to my parent’s discipline. “When I’m a parent, I am going to let my kids do whatever they want!“ I yelled at my Mom and Dad, hoping that they would see the errors in their ways and realize that I, as a seven year old child, could make better parenting decisions then they.
It is so easy to make a stand for certain parenting ideals before a child is even born. I will always do this! I will never do that! My child will always be on his best behaviour! Before the reality of raising a child is actually realized, we claim our position and berate those parents who are actually out there doing the parenting.
And then childhood happens. And we realize that we can no longer parent with ideals.
I realize that parenting is a journey. I will forever be learning how to be the best Mom I can be for my son. I will make mistakes and I will have victories. But, I kind of thought that I have already figured out what type of parent I would be. I feel like I have figured out how I want to treat my child and teach my child. But I didn’t realize that I still hadn’t experienced one crucial parenting issue yet.
Misbehaviour. Anger.
It is really easy to feel like I am the world’s greatest parent when my baby is already the world’s most well-behaved child. He still doesn’t really know how to misbehave yet. Instead, he gets into trouble by exploring and learning and being curious. I can’t really fault him for that.
But the other night, I experienced anger in parenting.
It was five o’clock in the morning. My son was crawling around the bed. I got up, rocked him, nursed him, and tried to get him back to sleep. Five a.m. might be a normal wake up time for some babies, but not this one who tends to wake up at 9:30 each morning. For us, five is still the middle of the night.
He was tired. He would just about fall asleep in my arms, and then he would will himself awake, effectively boycotting sleep. I couldn’t help it. I was tired. I was frustrated. I was angry.
All of a sudden, I found it difficult to be that parent I was so sure I was. Cameron was fighting sleep and I was fighting back. We were at odds.
Thankfully, an hour and a half later, I got him quieted enough to snuggle with me in bed. We wrapped ourselves together and slowly, finally fell asleep. As we lay there, he in my arms, turned into each other, I felt his tiny finger run up and down a little segment of my arm. I felt his little leg gently kick my belly. I was reminded of another time when those little kicks and flutters kept me awake. That time, it was different. I wasn’t angry with the little being growing in my belly because those movements reminded me that there was life inside of me, life that I would soon be able to hold in my ams, life that we shared.
I will never be a perfect parent. My son will never be the perfect son. In those moments, when my frustrations and anger take over from the parent I want to be, I am going to try to remember those moments and remember that we are not at odds; that our lives, are shared.
Forgive me for my anger, I’m still just figuring out how to be your Mom, little guy.
