Light-hearted parenting—easier said than done.

This morning, I woke up with a sore, swollen eyelid. I’m prone to sties, but this didn’t look like a sty.

The Big Girl is allowed to watch cartoons in the morning until the Little Girl comes to the kitchen (is that terrible?). So I sent the Big Girl to the TV and left the Little Girl talking in her crib while I checked Internet health sites.

Usually I’m nonchalant about symptoms like swollen eyelids, but my sister’s diabetes diagnosis has made me more paranoid about health issues.

So I poked around and assured myself that this was nothing serious.

By then the Little Girl was roaring “Up, up! Mama!” so I went in to rescue her. She pointed to her diaper and said, “Hurts.” The night before, she’d had a little diaper rash, and I scooped her up to change her diaper—and discovered that not only were we out of baby wipes at the changing table, but as I searched various stashes throughout the apartment, we only had a single wipe in the whole place.

I also discovered an angry diaper rash. I felt guilty of Mommy Malpractice because of the rash and because of the lack of a key supply. As I changed the diaper, using every inch of the sole wipe, the Big Girl, still in her nightgown, came charging in.

“It’s 7:18, and I haven’t even eaten breakfast!” she wailed in accusation. The Big Girl hates to be late; in fact, she hates to be on time; she likes to be early. “I’m supposed to be done eating and getting dressed at 7:20! We’re going to be late for camp!”

Did I laugh in a merry but comforting way? Did I burst into cheering song? Did I say reassuringly, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, we have plenty of time”?

No. I snarled in my most menacing voice, “WAIT A MINUTE!” She backed off and started sobbing in terror.

So apparently I haven’t quite internalized my own good-parenting tips.

I was angry with myself for getting distracted from our routine and for running out of essential baby supplies. So I reacted with anger to the Big Girl’s agitation.

I lost it there. But some happiness-project practices did help to restore peace.

First, I managed to get a grip on myself pretty quickly. I gave the Big Girl a hug, and said, “You go get dressed while I make breakfast. We still have plenty of time.” (“Make breakfast” in my case means spreading peanut butter on toast, not a lengthy process.)

Second, I’d forced myself to make her lunch the night before, so that was done.

Third and most important, we did, in fact, have a huge amount of extra time. Knowing the Big Girl’s concern for promptness, our mornings are organized to have a big cushion. Even with all the commotion, we were ready to go thirty-five minutes before we had to walk out the door.

I stopped at the drugstore after I dropped off the Big Girl. It’s one of the most important, if grammatically inelegant, of Life’s True Rules for happiness: There are some items that you can’t let yourself run out of.

Comments

[andy r.]

I found your blog via a post on the Worthwhile blog. What a refreshing and reassuring read. I'm a father of two girls, 4 and 2yrs. My wife works 24/7 caring for and raising our girls. When I return home, after work, I so desire to collapse, shuffle off the angst of the commute hour(s), and end my day right there.

But I see how hard Mom has been working throughout the day. It's summer, of course, so no nursery school to provide a bit of a break.

We've been struggling to redefine happiness in a reward-based world. I've driven to work more, for more money/status, but the return is so marginal. It's the old hackneyed phase: you can't get these years back again.

So, I make sure I leave work at 5p, check my anger/disappointment/frustrations in the car as I arrive home, and get into the world of wonder these two girl inhabit now. Your line yesterday about "the years of cheerios and the tooth fairy" hit home. Too often, I do want to wish the time away sometimes.

My snarl moment: after a particularly lengthy and terrible commute (I work in Boston - tunnel panel collapse/bid dig/ big mess), I trudged into our front hall to a living room littered with dolls and toys. The girls heard me come home and came running from brushing their teeth, shouting "Daddy's Home!!!"

What did I say? I barked "you two NEED to clean up your toys" clearing / kicking a path with my foot "before bed time! This is a mess!"

Their child's dreamy demeanor snapped on a dime. Elation turned to solemn down cast eyes. Joy to fear.

What a putz I was! A bit later (10 minutes), I unwound and sang the opening lines calling for a family sit-together. We all gather on the floor, wear leggings or pants on our heads as funny hats, and have a talk. I said Daddy was wrong to bark at you two about the toys. The big girl said, yes, Daddy, you were mean! Then smiled, and said, "but it's OK now."

Sometimes, a quick, heart felt recovery can overcome the initial parental mess up. Don't carry the guilt so heavily now. I mess up. I'm human. but I've learned to show them it's more humane to connect and ask for forgiveness, and let go of the snarl moment.

A ramble post. Thanks for taking the time and making the effort on the Happiness Project. It's a daily read for me now.

[christie]

We all (parents) have those minutes and those days when we know we're not at our best with the kids. The best, most important thing to do is do it better next time -- you can't change what you said, but you FIXED it for your child and took the necessary steps to prevent a reoccurence.

I enjoy this blog because this kind of information is exactly what I try to keep a handle on. It's good to have another source to draw from. Will look forward to your book.