To My Toddlers: Lessons I'm Learning As Your Mama

My dear toddlers,
Motherhood has been a journey for me. I am not the same woman I was four years ago, before I held my own baby in my arms. I anticipate that I will not be the same four years from now. I hope that I am not!
The older you get, the more I change.  But lately, I have been going through a "growth spurt," so to speak. And I've been keeping notes of all the things you've been helping me learn.

1. ALLOWING FOR ANGER

I've had to do some rewiring, and I'm sure you've noticed- it hasn't been easy for me. Anger is scary to me. It's easy for me to believe that if no one is angry, then everyone is safe. And you know what? That isn't true. 

I don't want you to get here someday, as an adult, and be afraid of anger- afraid of others' anger, or afraid of your own. It's not wrong to feel angry. And more than that, it's not wrong to express it, either. 

I don't want you to have the notion that I am afraid of your anger. That I am ashamed of it. That my love is conditional and will be withdrawn if and when you express it. 

No, I want you to know that I'm not phased by your big, out-of-control emotions. I want you to know that I can handle it. I can take it. 

You are the child; I am the adult. I am big enough to hear your anger. Dish it out- I'm going to be your anchor while your emotions are rocking and swaying out of your control. I'm going to be your safe place where you can learn to help yourself through your anger, not to hide it away for my sake. So go for it- scream, yell, tell me what you think. Show me what you've got. I'll be here.

(read more about dealing with anger here)

2. MASTERING THE UNRUFFLED ATTITUDE

Sometimes, I forget. I forget that you're a toddler, and you're on a wild roller coaster of emotions and development that you don't know how to control. And sometimes I forget that I am not a toddler, and that I can step off that wild ride. 

How freeing it is when I release myself from the notion that I must be upset if you are. How freeing that is for you to know that you are not responsible for my emotional stability. 

And let's be honest... sometimes, you really throw me some curveballs. Sometimes I really did not see that meltdown coming, and the last thing I want to do is stay calm. What I really want to do is throw myself on the floor and cry with you. 

But a funny thing happens when I choose to be "unruffled." Not only do you start to cope, but so do I. 

So I begin to say things like, "yes, I hear how upset you are! You really wanted a banana [for the fourth time today]. I'm not going to give you another one."

And you cry, because you are certain that I am being wholly unfair and the misery overwhelms you. 

And I say, "you REALLY wanted that banana. Yes, I hear you. You feel so disappointed to hear me say that. I wish I we could eat bananas all day long too!" 

And what happens for me, in that moment, is that, in giving you ownership of those big emotions, I remain calm. I am able to let you be unreasonable and loud and explosive, and I don't have to join you there. 

I can step off that roller coaster, be your safe place, and give myself a safe place as well.

(read more about being unruffled here)

3. LETTING THE UPSET HAPPEN

This one is hard for me. I don't like to see you cry; really, I don't. My mama heart wants to keep you happy at all costs. Instead of dealing with your upsets with an unruffled attitude, I would very much like to just keep you happy and avoid the situation altogether. 

But like a lot of things I want, I know it's not the best, both for you and for me. And so, instead of trying to walk on eggshells to avoid conflict with you, I'm learning to respect your right to be upset with me. I'm learning to set the limits that need to be set, and, rather than try to convince you to be happy, to embrace your emotions.
I nod, I listen, I hear you out. I let you cry. I argue with the voice in my head that does these things with the intention to stop you from being upset. I hear myself say, "it's not working!!" and I know that I've started to try and "fix" you again. It's my job to set the limits, and it's your right to experience emotions about that. Sometimes those emotions don't make a lot of sense to me. Truly. But they are not mine; they are yours. And you have every right to express them.

(read more about setting limits and allowing emotions here)

4. REJECTING THE ILLUSION OF CONTROL

I'm going to say something that you've already discovered. 

I don't control you. 

(I know. Big news!)

But we adults need that reminder from time to time. And you're quite good at offering those reminders, thankfully, so I get lots of practice!

I can't make you think my way. I can't make you like the things I like, or want the things I want. I can't make you feel sorry. I can't make you stop feeling sad. I can't make you eat, or sleep, or speak. I can't make you stop speaking, either. 

We've had this discussion a lot lately (looking at you, my darling three year old): "I make my choices and you make your choices." You've taken it as a mantra. You said it to me, the other day, after I insisted that you take a nap, because you were clearly so in need of one. You did me a favor and tried it out, and I appreciate that. You threw me a bone. But at some point, you resorted to opening your shades instead and playing quietly in your room. And you were gracious in reminding me how this works, when I asked later if you had decided not to sleep. 

"I choose my own choices, Mama, and you choose your own choices." 

And you know, that sort of sentence scares adults. Because it's scary to say, "you're right," and not try to threaten or intimidate or force you to submit to my will. It's scary to hand over that sense of control. But the truth is that you have always had that control anyway. The concept of "handing it over" is an illusion, because that never belonged to me anyway. 

So I will continue to control what is mine. I will control our environment to keep you safe. I will control my words. I will control my temper. I will control my own body, and use it to set appropriate limits when you can not control yours. But the rest of it is, as you know, yours. And I wouldn't want it to be any other way. 

5. "MODELING GRACIOUSNESS"

If I want you to be kind, I must be kind to you and to others. If I want you to be thankful, I must express my thankfulness to you and to others in front of you. If I want you to honor others' boundaries, I must honor  yours. If I want you to eat healthy food, I must model eating healthy food. If I want you to make a habit of cleaning, I must set an example by cleaning. If I want to be treated with respect, I must treat you with respect as well.

It seems so simple, but it's so ingrained that we must "make" you learn these lessons. That it's necessary that we coerce, bribe, or even threaten these lessons into your head. But I have seen it firsthand- you learn by seeing. You say what I say. Sometimes that makes me proud, like when you say, "Thank you for making this food for me, Mama! I really love you!" 

And sometimes that makes me rethink how I've been speaking to you. Like when you say, "you have to say you're sorry to me!!", and I remember how unpleasant it feels to have an apology demanded of you, rather than for it to be given out of sincerity. 

I want to be a good example for you. And this is making me not just a better mama to you, but making me a better person, too.

(read more about modeling graciousness here)

6. REFRAMING THE CONCEPT OF "SHARING"

It's funny- I think toddlers have a more realistic concept of ownership, sometimes, than adults. Somewhere along the line, we decided that adults may have belongings, that we may set boundaries with our things, but that children may not. They must share!
Somehow, it's become commonplace to expect that a child must be willing to let other children play with his or her belongings, whether out of the goodwill of their heart or out of fear of punishment.

Well, Dear, I'll tell you what. I don't share my personal things very often, and I wouldn't like it very much if I was told that I had no choice in the matter.

It took a little reframing for me to come to understand why the concept of forced sharing just doesn't work. That it isn't respectful or helpful, and even more so, that it isn't necessary. 

And you know, now, when I watch you share, it makes me happy. Not because you are obedient, or because you have learned to conform to societal norms- but because I know you are sharing because you want to. You're handing your sister your own special blanket out of the sweetness of your heart. You're offering to give your friend your toy because you want to make her happy. 

And nothing makes me happier than watching this budding empathy and generosity grow in you. 

(read more about forced sharing here)

7. IDENTIFYING REQUESTS FOR CONNECTION

It's hard being a parent. Sometimes, even with all the best intentions in the world, we miss things. We need help remembering how to understand you- how to translate your actions and words into what they really mean. 

Like when you say, "why is this a house?" 

And I try to answer that question, and you respond with, "are you my mom?"

And I say yes. And you say, "why are you my mom?" 

And I start saying things like, "because...you're my kid..." 

Or when you ask me to put on your shoes, and you've been able to put on your own shoes for quite some time now. But you insist that you CAN NOT do it without my help. And I want to say, "BUT YOU DID IT AN HOUR AGO." 

It's times like those that I really need help translating. You're not asking me a bunch of questions because you really want answers. You're not asking me to help you do things you already know how to do because you're trying to be difficult. You're asking me for connection. You're saying, "hey, Mom- I need you right now. Do you see me?" 

And the answer is "yes." It's always "yes."

But sometimes I just need help remembering.

(read more on connection in this post)

8. EMBRACING INDEPENDENT PLAY

You probably haven't noticed much change in this area, because I started doing it, really, from the beginning of our parenting journey. I didn't often shake toys in front of your face, or try to convince you to play any certain way. Often times, when it was just me and you (my sweet oldest), we would just lay on the ground together in silence, staring at each other. 

Not much has changed. We arrive at the park, and I sit on the bench, and off you go to do your own individual activities. Sometimes I check in to make sure you're safe, but mostly I watch. It works wonderfully for us all.

What has changed has been my release of guilt over this. I used to feel bad that I wasn't stimulating you enough, or that I wasn't a "fun" parent. I wondered if you wouldn't learn as much, because I wasn't constantly entertaining you and teaching you new things. 

But I don't feel guilty about that anymore. Because not only have I read and learned more about the benefits of child-directed play, but I've seen the results. I've seen you grow into wonderfully independent, curious, intelligent and confident children who don't need an adult to entertain them. Guilt be gone; boring parent I shall remain!

(read more about independent play here and here)

9. OWNING MY OWN BAGGAGE

I'll say it again: I am the adult, you are the child. You are not responsible for me. You are not responsible for keeping me calm, making me happy, appeasing my frustrations, or feeding my ego. If you do not do what I ask, and I get overwhelmed and frustrated, that is my baggage. If you do not make me look good in public, and I get embarrassed, that is my baggage. If you do not want to give me a kiss before bed, and I feel rejected, that is my baggage. 

You are responsible for you, and I am responsible for me. Remind me of this, will you? I know you will, because you very much like reminding me of things. 

10. REWIRING TO RESPOND VS REACT

I really don't need to tell you this, but sometimes I really have a hard time responding the right way. You know, like the other day when you would not put your pants on, and I had repeated myself 40 times, and I was sick and in pain and couldn't just do it myself? And you started crying and, instead of being an adult about it, I walked to my room and slammed the door?  Yeah. Like that. 

Sometimes I react. Okay, often times I react. I don't think. My lizard brain takes over and I turn into a toddler myself. And it makes things better for us 0% of the time. 

But I'm in a process, my little ones, of learning to respond, not react. To give myself a moment before making a decision, instead of letting my emotions run me (and you) over. And when that doesn't happen, and I find myself in an emotionally reactive place, you can bet I hate it. 

But I know that each time I do choose to respond- each time I take a breath, respond gently, and keep calm- I know that I am setting a new pattern for myself. And even though it's hard now, someday it won't always be so hard. That these new patterns I am setting now will someday set a stronger pathway. That it will one day become as second nature. It's okay that it's not second nature now- I keep practicing anyway. 

11. LEADING WITH CONFIDENCE

When I act confident, you follow. When I question myself (am I saying the right thing? Did I say it the right way? Is this even the right decision?!), you know. And I know you know, because I watch as my insecurity transfers to you. I watch as you try to gauge if we are okay. "Can you handle this, mom? If you can't handle it, how can I?" 

And, you know, a lot of times, I'm faking it. I'm pretending that I know what I'm doing, and I really don't have a clue. It happens. 

But the more I do it, the more I feel it. And the more it works, the more I actually DO feel confident. 

12. "DROPPING THE ROPE"

One of the things toddlerhood has really been teaching me is how to step out of power struggles. It's a fine line- how do I stand my ground but not go back and forth with you?

So this has been my new lesson, as I navigate these years where you often very much disagree with me...

 "A power struggle is when emotion is inserted into a limit being firmly held. A limit is a fact. It has no emotion. A power struggle is like tug of war. It can't be a struggle without two people pulling. Drop the rope." (Robin Einzig, Visible Child)

And this is hard.

It means taking a lot of deep breaths. It means imagining a shield around myself, setting an emotional boundary line between what is mine and what is yours. It means not engaging in that argument. It means acknowledging your upset, and moving on with our afternoon. 

It's hard, but you give me lots of practice.

Lots and lots of practice.

(read about "dropping the rope" in this post) 

13. REFRAMING POSSESSIVENESS

When you say, "that's mine," we adults hear, "I own that." It's one of those lost-in-translation things again. But I'm learning to hear what you mean. And what you mean is, "I like that/I want that/I need that right now." Toddler possessiveness is not rational, it's emotional. It's not, as Janet Lansbury says in her podcast (linked below), "my mom bought this at the store for me." It's "I want to play with that and I don't want you to take it." 

So I've been working on my response, when you say that it's yours. I've been working on not trying to rationalize you out of it with a "that belongs to all of us" kind of response. I've been working on empathizing. "I hear you really don't want her to have that right now. You'd like to use it." 

I've been working on letting the upset party (there usually seems to be at least one) be upset, even when it doesn't make sense. And what happens, I've seen, is that you are upset, and then you are heard, and then it passes. It always passes.

(listen to a podcast about possessiveness here)

14. REJECTING PERFECTION

Oh, how I would love to be the perfect mother. I would love to be endlessly patient and perfectly kind. Mary Poppins in the flesh, if you will. 

But (as you know), I am very, very human. And sometimes I really mess up. And as much as it kills me (and as bad as I am about beating myself over it), I'm trying to remember this: There will be slip ups, bad days, big mistakes. The importance isn't in never messing up, but in mending the damage in the aftermath.

So I apologize. And we reconnect. And I tell you that moms mess up sometimes, and I ask you to forgive me.

And sometimes, like the other day, after a big blow up in which I really lose my cool and demand you stop crying (THIS INSTANT OR WE ARE GOING HOME), you look at me and say, "Mama, I don't like it when you tell me to stop crying. That just makes me want to cry more! I don't like to be treated that way. I want to be treated kinder." And I swallow my parent-pride that says that kids shouldn't get to say that kind of thing, and I say, "you're right. That's so understandable. What do you wish I would have said instead?"

And you say, "I wish you would say, 'it's okay to cry.'"

And it's in those moments of reconnection that I remember that the cleanup after the spill can be just as impactful and precious to our relationship. That lessons can be learned (for both of us) out of imperfection, too.
Damage will be done in every relationship, not just ours. So I want to show you how to repair the damage. I want to show you not just how to love others, but how to love yourself, too.

Thank you, my little teachers, for pushing me, testing me, and making me a better mama every day.