Why isn't parenting more obvious?

There's plenty about being a parent that comes naturally to me.

I instinctively know what to feed them. I know that good food has a big part to play in their childhood, just as it did mine.

I know to love them, to give them plenty of cuddles and to listen.

I know to read to them every day and nurture their love of books.

I know that less will always reward them with more.

As they've grown, I instinctively know that a slower, longer childhood is right for them. And that they should spend time in the garden watching food grow.

I'm very grateful to have instincts like these. No matter what anyone says or what I see, I am never swayed. It's so comforting to have that instinctive backing. To know what is right.

What doesn't come naturally to me, though, is huge and fills me with guilt. Every. Single. Day.

I don't know how to deal with the fighting, the mood swings, the episodes of rage. Instead of waiting for calm to creep back in, for them to find their centre, then talking about it sensibly, I get sucked in and swept along.

I've been reading how sibling conflict is an opportunity for communication. But I'm failing miserably. (Unless raising my voice counts as communication?)

If it was a four-year-old Kian clashing with Kian as he is now, I imagine I wouldn't get so caught up. Kian is more resilient and he moves on quite quickly. I imagine I might even let them sort it out for themselves. But it always feels so much deeper with Luca. Uncontrollable. Intense. The distress lingers and it affects everything. It's the highly sensitive thing that I still know very little about.

This morning, as I baked cheese and chive muffins to fill their lunch boxes, I realised that instead of feeling proud and grateful that it's easy for me to wake up and rustle up something delicious for their lunch, I felt niggled that I'm only really doing part of my job.

Filling their tummies and reading to them and loving them is only really part of the job. It's the easy part. It's easy to bake and cook from scratch (for me, anyway). It's easy to read. It's easy to cuddle and be close. Because it's calm and enjoyable. It's easy to parent when you've got calm and enjoyable.

It's hard when everyone is overwhelmed and angry, in a struggle. I wish I could better tune in and know exactly what their needs are and how to talk and nurture them back. That's the hard part and I wish it were more obvious.

 

I wish it were more obvious: tuning into my child and being able to connect and work out what they really need on an emotional level and being able to think 'you're acting this way because..., so all I need to do is this', and know in my heart of hearts that I'm doing a great job.

I know, as parents, we're human too, carrying all sorts of issues that still need resolving. I accept that, and I know nothing is ever perfect, but I'd like to feel – just once – like I can pat myself on the back.

I find myself wondering if it'll all turn out OK. In spite of all this stuff that isn't obvious to me.

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What was obvious to me today, though, was I needed music and I needed to make banoffee pie. So I danced in the kitchen to Michael Bublé, and when the boys came home, we danced some more.... (before several moments like the kind I describe above).

And now, I have a bowl of buttery, biscuity, sticky and creamy. Where it's going to end up is very very obvious.*

Do you struggle with the emotional stuff too as a parent? Do you have one child you always worry about? Do you wish more of parenting was instinctive so that we didn't have to spend our spare time reading advice?**





* I'll post the banoffee recipe tomorrow.

** Speaking of which, I have a copy of Simplicity Parenting here from the library thanks to a mention from Greer. But it's been sitting on the coffee table for a week. Next to Tessa Kiros' Apples for Jam. Guess which one seems to fall into my lap first. 

Falling in love with Less

Image from here

At the beginning of the year, I remember reading about new year's resolutions and people who avoid making them. I was drawn to the idea of defining the year ahead with one word. A word to help you shape the year in your head. A word to live by and help you achieve what it is that makes you happy.

I didn't have to think about it. It popped into my head. Like someone had asked me my name.

Less.

I've been thinking it about it ever since. Notions of Less have been floating around in my head for the past two months, so I think it's time I put them down to make sense of it all.

It's no secret that we've been made to fall in love with More. More is better. More is, well, more... if you listen to all the messages out there.

Think about it. More money, more gadgets, more toys, more clothes, more presents, more food, more friends, more dinner parties, more days out, more organised activities, more friends at those parties, more Facebook likes, more Facebook friends, more blog followers...

Don't you sometimes feel like shutting the world out, covering your ears, squeezing your eyes shut and shouting enough!!

I did. It feels overwhelming. I sometimes forget and get sucked in. But then I realised that life doesn't get easier when you have more. It gets more complicated. It gets busy and it gets exhausting.

So Less is my little friend for the year. I've adopted Less, and if we all get on, then I'm hoping Less will stick around permanently after that.

It's not like Graeme and I have ever chased more of anything. We've always been drawn to keeping things simple, but like I say, sometimes you get carried away with the tide.

So far, Less and I, we're getting on famously. It's calming me. 

Less rushing around trying to fill our days. Fewer social outings. Less travelling. (We had to cancel a trip into Sydney in January to see Hairy Maclary at the Opera House, and as it turned out I was glad we didn't go in the end. You can really end up doing too much. Scheduling this and that in your diary and planning playdates, appointments and activities somehow makes it feel more worthwhile. More satisfying. Why is it empty diaries make you feel less important, less worthy? Think about it. Why is it so cool to be 'busy'?)

Some people don't mind dashing here, there and everywhere. Visiting places, taking in the sights, car journeys, dragging the kids to more 'experiences'. I've done it, and it doesn't suit me, or my family. So we're doing Less. I take the boys to a great music class in the week, because they love it, and they go swimming at the weekend. That's it. I'm not getting talked into anything else.

Toys. One of the worst traps. Like any mum out there, you want your child to have the best start in life. And you get sucked into 'the more toys the better'. But I've discovered, through Luca mainly, that simplicity and fewer toys are much more fun. The last two Christmases have taught me that too many presents is overwhelming, for my children at least, and it teaches them nothing. We were just as guilty. From now on, we'll be focusing on one special Christmas present and some books. And similarly for birthdays. How much nicer is it to get one very special present from each person? Special doesn't mean expensive. Just thoughtful and good quality. For Luca's birthday at the end of the month, we've specified no presents on the invitations. That way, all the focus is on having fun with his friends, playing games, creating memories. Not receiving stuff. Stuff that he probably won't play with.

As for toys at home, I now put away over half the boys' toys in a cupboard, and rotate every so often. I was amazed at the results the first time I did this. It created more space and more calm in their rooms. Less stuff to clutter their heads. They found more things to play with, and when I swapped things around, it was like Christmas again! Renewed interest in an old toy. 

There's still far too much in their rooms, though. And it's one job I must tackle. 

It's only February but I do feel like I've made quite a bit of progress with Less already. 

We go out less and we spend more time indoors (when Kian allows us!). Pottering. At home. Must be my favourite three words.

And when we meet friends at the beach, or go to their house to play, it's special, because we haven't worn ourselves out doing stuff beforehand. 

That's what Less does. Less makes everything more special.

I know it's all sounding a bit deep for a Friday evening, but let me tell you, I feel so much better now that's off my chest. 

I'm off to pour myself a glass of wine. Still not sure about Less when it comes to good food and wine, though...

Learning to accept

If you've been reading my blog for a while, you'll know that my littlest pickle likes to 'connect' with his Mummy A LOT. I'm talking in the evening, in the middle of the night and in the early hours of every morning. Yes, after almost 12 months, my body has learnt to cope with waking every couple of hours and starting the day at 5.30am.

I go through phases with our sleep issues. I would often think dammit, I can't go on like this and fight fight fight, trying different approaches, reading every book ever written on baby sleep, talking to so-called experts until I get so overwhelmed with all the conflicting advice. But a while ago, I decided that the fight was causing me just as much stress. It was too draining. I have a terrible habit of needing to understand EVERYTHING, analysing things to death.

I thought back to when Luca was a baby, and how I longed for him to drop his early morning feed so I wouldn't have to start the day at 5am. I felt that if he could just sleep till nearer 7am, I would have so much more energy and be generally better off.

When he was ready, he slept through. And I got more sleep.

But did I feel energised all of a sudden? Did I feel less tired? Did I heck.

If Kian started allowing me uninterrupted sleep, it might be nice not to have to get up four times a night, but I'm not going to feel any less exhausted.

Funny thing is, once I've fed him and he's fallen fast asleep in my arms, I sometimes sit there just holding him, enjoying the stillness. He won't be a baby forever.

I have two very determined, energetic boys and a 5-year-old Labrador with the same energy she had as a mad puppy - and that's why I'm tired.

Once I realised that, I stopped fighting. I'm at the acceptance stage. And I'm all the more peaceful for it. We're all guilty of trying to change things all the time, because we're somehow convinced that once we get what we want, we'll be happier. But once we get what we want, all too often we've moved on to another problem we need to fix.

It reminds me of a friend of a friend who kept moving house. Literally kept moving house. She would make her family sell up and move into another house, only to start looking elsewhere the minute they'd set foot in the new house. There was always a better house.

Image from here

Acceptance is a great word. Don't you think?