Thursday, April 17, 2014

Just Do It

Have you read those stories about moms who pick up cars or other two ton objects off of their children? Or moms who fight off bears or cougars to protect their young?

Yeah, this is sort of like that.

As much as I like to do things for myself, I have, over the years, developed a tendency to, shall we say, delegate. If I can't open a jar, I ask my husband. If I need a large item delivered to my home, I ask my dad.  I arrange for things to get done, much that same way I arrange for dinner to happen, even if I'm not the one cooking it.  Monday, we have leftovers. Check. Tuesday is dollar taco night. Check. Wednesday, we need to eat the lettuce from the garden. Check...

I can't arrange for someone to open the box that contains my son's NEW FAVORITE THING when he's right there, asking me to "bin, bin, bin."  Seriously, he's like that chick on those old Mervyn's commercials, "Open, open, open," but he's way cuter, and you know in my house.

If he's tired after a hike, I can't arrange for someone to pick him up and carry him down the hill.

When he needs me to "six" (uhm, fix...) his "boken" toys, I can't simply call tech support and hope that someone can reattach the rear seat onto the John Deer tractor, right now

A friend of mine, a runner, shared a tip she read about how to get faster, "Harden the f*** up." Simple, some might even argue elegant...It's true for running, and it's true for parenting.

I can't just sit down on the carpet and cry along with my son when the box won't open.  I have to open the box.  I don't get to pout and run down the hallway when there are no more spoons. I have to wash the spoons so that my son can eat his afternoon snack. I have to "harden the f*** up." I pull on that vast supply (seriously, where does it come from?) of mom strength, and just do the things.

Yes, Ari has two parents. Yes, he has a wealth of family and friends who love him, but I can't call my husband at work or my parents thirty minutes away to make the oatmeal cook faster.

So, I stopped arranging and started doing.  I figure out how to open the box. It might not be pretty, but it's open.  I figure out that milk in a cup with a straw but no lid offers the best chance for a spill-free snack time. I kiss owies. I carry an exhausted 30 pound toddler. I become a horse when my son wants to ride a horse.

I stand by my last post and know that I need to stop reading the panic-inducing worst-case scenario parenting stories, but I also need to just figure out how to do things - not the all consuming crazy-making Pinterest things (because, seriously, he's not even two; he doesn't need a scaled model of our house in the backyard), but, you know, the day-to-day life things.

I can handle the day-to-day things, unless, of course, there's a magical fairy who wants to help? Nope?

It's okay, I actually like doing those things. 

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