Relative Assurance
Recently I can be quoted for having given advice about "letting go" and "allowing the children to have relationships with other people who may not follow the same rules and guidelines as yourself".
This is often easy to say.
This is often hard to follow.
Today I returned home from my extravagant shopping spree (on me) to find that Kimi's face is blue (from markers)...as is the coffee table cover.
My husband had to leave quite quickly when I returned home, so I did not really get a "recap" on the activities while I was away from my post.
So I called.
And I said something to the following affect:
"If you want me to be able to go out and spend some time by myself (so that I do not go crazy), I need to have relative assurance that I won't return home with Kimi being either bald or blue."
Yes, I HAVE come home and Kimi has had much less hair than when I left.
Then I realized what I had done. I had not followed my own advice.
So, I stepped back and assessed.
1. Kimi did not get hurt.
2. The world did not implode in my absence.
In fact the worst thing that happened is she got spend some happy time with her papa playing with markers...which mama doesn't allow. So papa is the cool one.
I later apologized to my husband.
Kimi will not have the same experiences with her papa as she will with me. He will never be able to provide the same type of attention to her as I will, because he is a different person. And as long as no one is getting hurt, I should relax and let her experiences with him be what they are; different than with me, but no less important for them both.
2 Comments:
yes, you're so right.
I sometimes wonder why my boys love their dad more than they love me while all he's doing with them is playing the human hotdog...
Great post, and absolutely true. I, too, have had to be reminded on occasion to relinquish the reins to other, equally loving and related adults. I mean, it won't kill my kid if Grandpa gives him Dr. Pepper at the tender age of five months, nor will it cause permanent injury when my husband dresses my daughter in a red plaid shirt and orange flowered leggings. Unless, of course, there are photos taken--that could wreck her life.
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