I am a first time mother.
Hell no I don’t know what I am doing.
But what I do know is that my son is developing ahead of the learning
curve, he is at the top percentile of the height and weight chart and not one
person can pass him without a comment on how handsome he is. So clueless as I may be, I am getting something right. That being said, I don’t give a shit what you
think of my parenting style and foul mouth, because my son is a BOSS and it’s
2013!
Since the day I found out I was pregnant I started second guessing my abilities to be a good parent. I bought book after book on best parenting practices. I asked a ridiculous amount of questions of been-there-done-that parents, and followed them around studying their every move. I was determined to be the best damn mother.
The only thing I learned from hours of reading was that
every author, parent, doctor and specialist contradicted each other. My mission of following moms around taught me
that EVERY child was different from the next, so when one thing worked on one
kid, it did fuck all on the next. Basically, all I got out of my quest for
knowledge was an understanding that parenting was going to be one hell of a
journey.
So when FTD and I brought Ollie home we were still
clueless. We just stood there staring at
this little poop machine, terrified. The
first few days we took turns staring at Oliver while he slept to make sure he kept
breathing, and in between I would nurse, change his diaper and pray. FTD would just continue to stare and read
“helpful tips for new parents” on the Internet.
Slowly but surly we got the hang of being first time
parents. We learned that as long as our
son was fed, dry and well rested his fussiness was at a minimum. We still trolled the Internet looking for
vindication of our methods. We needed
some sort of virtual ass tap letting us know that we were good parents.
I eventually learned that my driving need to be vindicated for
being an awesome parent was directly related to my overflowing love for my son. I felt in some deranged way that being the perfect
parent was directly correlated with how much I loved my son. I have never in my
life known a love like I have for my son. He is my world and I want the world
to know that. Surely winning parenting
awards would prove that!
Thankfully I have learned, BULLSHIT ON THAT! I am so far from perfect. I love my son more than anything, and he is
super healthy and happy. Doing my best
makes me the best. I don’t care about being the world’s best mother in the eyes
of the world anymore; I only care about being the world’s best mother in the
eyes of my son. My methods may be
unconventional, and at times questionable, so be it.
I no longer look for vindication or care what people
think. I no longer try to quantify my
love for my son through attempting to prove to the world that I am the best mother. I also no longer worry about being the worst
parent for not following the rules. I may let my son run around in only a
diaper all day, and let him eat ice cream and popsicles all day when his molars
are tearing trough his gums. The haters may disagree, but I am not sorry at all. This is my family dynamic, and I am proud of
it!
I am convinced that following your heart and gut is what
being a great parent is all about. It’s about choosing your battles with your
child and doing the best job you can.
Let the haters hate. Discontinue your subscription to your issues and
insecurities on being a parent. Have
faith in yourself, and never ever apologize for trusting your heart and
instincts, because that is what being a great parent is all about.
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