It's a tough old thing being a parent. We want to protect our little 'angels' from all the dangerous and horrid things out there, yet, at the same time, we don't want to smother them. How do we get the balance right? How do we stop ourselves from becoming control freaks disempowering our small fry and preventing them from developing skills on their own?
This central question seems to infiltrate everything I do as a Mother. The most obvious place is at the dinner table. All my issues revolve around the dinner table. That's half the problem, I guess. I want (and need) to let Max feed himself 100% independently but, at the same time, I want (and need) him to eat the right things so that he is fit and healthy and grows and flourishes. I actually wish he would just refuse the spoon when it comes towards his mouth held by me but he is a lazy / insecure little man and doesn't really care that much if he gets to play and read a book whilst I shovel in the meat and vegetables. At the same time, though, I know he needs to practice eating on his own so he knows when to stop, knows what he likes and doesn't like and, last, but by no means least, to save me from having to wash his clothes every time he has eaten a meal and missed his mouth! He needs to want to feed himself and I need to keep my hands tied behind my back or I'll be writing the same blog entry when he is 5!
The same goes for letting him do 'dangerous' and precarious activities. He needs to learn to climb and run and jump but, for the first while, he isn't going to understand his own capabilities properly and, being my son, he probably isn't going to be very coordinated and good at all that physical stuff. I don't want him to break his neck but, he also needs to work out his own boundaries so I shouldn't stop him from teetering on top of a stool or chair or even falling off his balancing bike. Only thing is, I'm not sure how quick my own reactions are and don't know if I would catch him. And and and what if I don't catch him? And he falls and never wants to climb or get on to a bike again? I know, I know - me being scared makes him scared but he still manages to be a whole lot braver than me!
Tough calls, over and over again. Max is still little but he isn't a baby any more and he needs to explore. For quite he while he used to only want to play with me and be where I or his Mama was. It got on my nerves. I was dying for him to be independent and self-sufficient. And now that he is often in another room and I can't always see or hear him, I get the heebie-jeebies about that too! Where are you Max? What are you up to darling? Talk to me! Of course playing quietly is never a good sign either - bound to be up to no good!
So, you are damned if you do and damned if you don't. As I said, tough old job this mothering thing!
