Almost one, or "I love conflict"

Dear Z,

You have discovered so much this past month. Pulling up. Pointing. Clapping. Signing “fan” and “light” and “eat”. Gleefully feeding Sweet Dog from your highchair. Scooting around like a monkey. Standing for endless, wavering seconds before plopping onto the safety of your butt. Walking, stumbling really, like a drunken sailor, with your tiny hands grasping my fingers. We make endless loops around the house visiting your favorite haunts: the guest room’s full-length mirror, the ceiling fans, the washing machine, the bookshelf and always, always ending up at the back door, banging to go out. You love being outside: picking apart flowers, pulling lemons off the tree, looking up at the trees, birds and helicopters. You are curious and inventive and so quick to smile and laugh. It is inspiring and thrilling to see.

But you have also discovered frustration and proto-tantrums which have been.... less than thrilling to see. Most days, I find myself hating that we are in this transition from infancy to toddlerhood. In your infancy I could just love you and hold you whenever I felt like it. My job was to give you everything you needed and wanted. Now I have to set boundaries and say no (or “that’s enough” or “please redirect your attention to this perfectly planned alternative” or whatever) and, you know, be a PARENT. Since when am I the grownup in any scenario??

When you threw a fit the other day because I wouldn’t let you eat dirt, I just froze. I had no idea what to do. Explain “dirt isn’t food so we don’t eat dirt”? Let you eat it and find out for yourself just why we don’t eat dirt? Point you in another direction? I just stared at her as you thrashed on the ground and then I picked you up and took you inside. Game over.

Our friend G is so confident and clear with her four-year old daughter, R. Every time I’m around them I feel like I should take notes. As R was climbing on my massage table, she said to her “Did you ask her if it is okay to climb on her table?”. When R dutifully asked me if it was okay, I again froze. This was a test and I was sure to fail. “Um, I guess it’s okay if your mom holds it still so it won’t fall, or you won’t fall and get a concussion.....”. Thankfully, G stepped right in to redirect her with: “Why don’t you show us your somersaults instead?” which R happily accepted as an equally fun activity. Will I ever be able to redirect you as naturally as that?

I keep telling myself that this will be good for me. I am coming to the realization that raising a child is like immersion therapy for the conflict averse. The books all tell me that your job is to learn about the world around you by pushing and exploring and experimenting. In order to be a good mother to you as you do all that, I MUST set boundaries, redirect your energy and help you make good choices; all of which will inevitably set us up for conflict. I will try really, really hard not to hate that.