Mommy philosophy: January 2007 Archives

My kid, Samantha, is 3 years old.

If you ask her, "How old are you?" she proudly holds up three fingers and says, "3!" If you ask her, "How are you?" she proudly holds up three fingers and says, "3!"

I'm like any parent. There are times I'm in love with her. I always love her, of course. But it's those sweet moments when she's sleeping or when she's doing a silly waggle-her-tail dance or when she's kissing a boo-boo for me that I'm in love with her.

And then, of course, there are the defiant times.

Hold still so I can brush your hair. Don't chase the cat around the house yelling "meow" at him. Stay right with me when we're in the store. Share your toys. Share your toys. Share your toys.

I worry that she's not getting enough nutrition because she's a horribly picky eater. I worry that I'm going to discipline her too lightly for something that will grow into a problem later. I worry that I'm going to discipline her too harshly for something she'll outgrow. I worry that, despite what the blood tests said, our old house really does have lead paint and she's just lying in wait to eat some off the window sills when I'm not looking.

Am I giving her enough attention? Am I helping her learn her letters and numbers fast enough? Am I pushing her? Should I push her?

Yup, I'm a mom.

How do you deal with your worries? What's the most common sentence you repeat to your child?

I called my mom for advice today.

I'm the youngest of four, so by the time my mom got to raising me, she was a pro. At least, that's how I remember it.

I remember being about 4 years old and doing things Mom didn't like. All she'd say was, "Amy," in a stern, drawn-out way, and I'd relent. Instantly. I didn't want to get in trouble -- although "get in trouble" is a phrase that conjures no vivid memory now -- and I especially didn't want to hear her say, "I'm so disappointed in you. You know better."

Does this work with my child? That would be a hearty no.

So I called my mom and whined. "Why does Sammy do this? Is the defiance something she'll outgrow, or do I need to nip this in the bud? Am I really being very, very mean to her?"

What I really wanted to ask was this: "How did I get to be the mommy?"

I don't have all the answers, like my mom did. I still feel like a kid myself sometimes. And somehow I'm in charge of the life of an entire other human being?

That scares me. Really.

What scares you about parenting? How often do you ask your own parents for advice? Does recognizing phases get easier with subsequent children?