Everyday Parenting~ Speaking of Teachers
Wednesday, October 31st, 2007
Clara is my best teacher. Especially now that she is almost three and, well, sort of insane and super-toddler-y.
I mean that in the best way possible, really I do.
Take this morning, for instance. It’s Halloween and we have been shlepping a costume around in a suitcase during our move. Her school is having a party and a parade for the holiday and she was incredibly excited last night to be all dressed up for school with her friends, but this morning, when we tried to get the costume on her body, she started screaming bloody murder.
I. Was. So. Mad.
It was really silly. And poignant in many ways. Mostly, it was a terrible reflection of some of my own deep fears and insecurities.
As a child, well, probably up until my twenties, I would find myself in situations where I felt different and apart from my peers. In retrospect, it was often my very own decisions or perspective that put me in that position. It took many years of meditation, yoga, working with therapists and just plain experience to realize that I was in large part responsible for my feelings of not being included. What a relief to know it was me!! But, truth be told, I dislike this part of myself (because I still find myself in these situations occassionally, even now that I’m perfect <---which is a huge joke).
So, here I am this morning, getting overly frustrated with a toddler that is exhibiting normal toddler behavior (like saying No to everything). And, because I still struggle at times with feeling included, I’m assigning detrimental, life-altering significance to this incident. “Oh my gosh, my daughter is going to feel left out and sad and lonely for the rest of her life because she didn’t put her Halloween costume on the year she was three!!”
After I took her to school (without her costume on, but in a bag, just in case), it took a while to shake it off. I don’t want my daughter to suffer. At all. Ever. And naturally, I can only control that to a very tiny extent. I think the wisest thing I can do, outside of loving her as best I can, is to continue shining the light into my own dark corners and accepting and embracing what I find. Because at the end of the day I believe that by applying kindess and non-violence to my own neurosis, I will be able to clearly see what is my daughter’s path and what is mine. And when she struggles to find her way, I will be able to offer her my love and acceptance, hopefully because I will have offered that great gift first to myself.
And, by the way, she wore the costume during the party and had a terrific time with her friends.





