Entries about sunny

Every mother of a toddler grieves the process of their little baby growing up. We miss the cuddles, the way they ate everything we put in front of them with enthusiasm, the way they thought we were the greatest thing ever. We long for the days of being able to browse in a bookstore while our little one snoozed in their carseat, or contently chewed on a little rubber giraffe. I remember when we had our firstborn, exhausted parents would tell us, "go out now, while you still can." We thought, what?! Going out to eat with a baby isn't so easy - you have to haul a giant diaper bag (which you prepared in advance), a stroller, several kinds of baby food, and a car seat into a restaurant and hope your baby didn't wake up or poop through their diaper or cause a scene. Little did I know that two years later, I would still have those same concerns, and generally have a harder time making my wishes come true. Now a two year old has a much more developed sense of what HE wants to do, and what he thinks is a good idea. You may think going out to pizza is the greatest thing ever, and when you arrive at the restaurant, he stubbornly digs in his heels, shaking his head, no no.

This is all very perplexing for a mother, and certainly takes a lot more finesse and compromise and inventive thinking than life with a baby. I am humbled by the realization that as one phase begins to get easier and I seem to figure out my child and myself, another phase and development comes along that completely throws me for a loop. I have discovered that parenting is one giant drawing board of trial and error for which the manuals are dramatically ill-equipped. Parenting is like putting together Ikea furniture - there are illustrations and there is some understanding of what the finished product should be like, but getting from here to there often requires some tools that you do not have. Picking up those tools as you go along is the whole key to the puzzle. The current tools I am working on are "choosing your battles", knowing when it is important to make a stand, and the art of letting go. Letting go of the baby that is now becoming a boy, and letting go of my need to be right and to have plans. Often my plans or desires are thwarted by the plans or realities of a little being who also has needs and plans and ideas. This should seem obvious, but when you are walking through Target trying to get your errands checked off for the day, and your son is vocally letting the store know that he is "all done" being there...sometimes you have to abandon the mission. At first I try to reason with him, "just five more minutes, OK, momma has something she needs to get done". "Seriously, you need to stay in the cart and wait". Hmm, this does not seem to be getting through, I think to myself. I try distraction. I try promising a trip to the park. Finally I decide, 'is getting a tube of toothpaste really worth the trouble?' And I leave a half-full cart and head home.

This challenges my sanity, because I want to be able to reason with a child, to let him know of course that I have needs too, and sometimes he has to allow me to get things done. Yes, that's what he needs to know. Hmm. Problem is, a 2 year old is not yet able to reason, so as well as I may think I explain myself, what he hears is close to the Peanuts adults saying, "Whnt whnt whnt". That's where the letting go, and the choosing of the battles comes in. Oh, and the sense of humor. I expect that sometimes my desires will not get met, and sometimes even the best intended plans do not work out. This is all an evolution; and like everything in life, the more you can learn to let go and embrace the process, the better things will be.

Sometimes, in a completely normal moment, my son will get the giggles. All at once, he will bust out into the sweetest laugh, and it will accelerate into full-blown hysterics. At first, I look at him with total bewilderment, not having any idea what is so funny. Then I cannot help but join in to laughing with him, because his laugh is completely contagious, and the innocence of his laugh is magical. It happened today as I was holding him for his nap...his eyes are closing, everything is quiet, only the calming ocean sounds of our ipod and the whirr of the fan, and then his eyes pop open and he giggles wildly. Head tilted back, mouth open: A big belly laugh. Then just as quickly as it began it lulls, and we are again settling into our sleep routine. But I am left with a poignant truth to ponder: he is his own being.

This is of course obvious to everyone but me, who still sometimes thinks (and perhaps secretly hopes) that we are still attached in some way. But he is himself. And in these days when his personality is blossoming second by second, it is getting more and more clear that he is becoming a unique being: with likes and dislikes, attitudes, emotions, ideas, and expressions. As we move on from the baby months, he no longer laughs just because I am laughing, or smiles because I like something. He laughs when he wants to laugh. Finds things funny that I have no idea about, decides he wants to do one activity over another. I still expect him to do things that I want, to go to the pool when I want to go, and am surprised when we get there, and he is walking back to the house instead, shaking his little head, no, no.

The other day Bodhi & I were walking down the path from our home to the car. I usually take his hand, so that he can run fast and not fall. But this time, he pushed my hand away. He wanted to do it himself. I found myself both proud and sad as i watched him run down the slope of the pathway himself. I am willing him not to fall, walking quickly so he doesn't get too far ahead, and I can get there to stop him before he runs into the street. But then he stopped at the bottom of the path, turned around and called, "Momma, Momma!" as if to say, 'look what I did!'

I find myself increasingly emotional when I think about or see images of children growing up. The other day, we were watching the TV show Modern Family (Excellent, by the way), when the father Phil brings his teenage daughter to look at prospective colleges. He allows her to go off with some other students to a party on campus, acting very cool and relaxed, and later admits he was tracking her cell phone gps, and shows up at the party to make sure she is OK. She says to him: "How are you going to handle me going off to college next year if you can't even trust me enough to let me go to this party alone?" I recognize the truth, the fear, and the total lack of control that one has as their children grow up and I started to cry. "That will be Bodhi someday!", I tell my husband who is visibly rolling his eyes. "You have 16 years". But still, I can see it coming down the road, my need to let him go, and every step we take brings us closer to his full independence.