A life without sticky stars - what a learning curve

I didn't realise that I was a kind of girl who needed validation until the validation stopped.

In life, there is a clear grading system available, if you're the kind of person who likes a grade. Or maybe needs one. At primary school I worked hard to get my body weight in sticky stars, which progressed to the rows of neat ticks, the certificates, the A's, a First... Work was no better - there was the standard ladder, plus publications, presentations, little ego boosts and rough proof that 'the girl done good'. But always, always, the validation. The thing to aim for, and then the knowledge that achieving it meant I'd done well. Was on track.

At the time - as in, for the majority of my life - I didn't realise that my aim to do my best was so strongly linked with the need for someone else to notice my best and acknowledge it. I'm not enjoying admitting this, but it would seem, on closer inspection, that my pushing to always be better at what I do, or who I am, isn't just about self-improvement. 

I like the sticky stars.

Now, I'm a wife and a mum. There's no grading system. There are no sticky stars. And I'm completely thrown.

When I think back to how ingrained this sticky star quest has gone, I zip to aged three or four where my mum used to make me maths sheets, and give me lists of words to turn into stories - at my request. I'd complete them instantly and hand them back to be graded. I loved doing them, but I loved being told how well I'd done too. I can't really remember a time when there wasn't a marker to aim for, and someone telling me 'well done' once I got to it.

It was last night, after pregnancy hormones and tiredness turned a routine scrap with my husband into a full on mental breakdown, that I took a moment to try and talk myself down and I realised why the breakdown had happened.

An innocuous comment, thrown in a lighthearted way, had been tossed into the breech by my husband and I hadn't seen the funny side. The reason? I heard the comment and immediately felt like I was being given - not a sticky star - a black mark. Not something I have been accustomed to all that often. Don't get me wrong, 3 years of creative writing workshops culminating in the immortal words 'never has anyone written so eloquently for so long about nothing at all' will enable you to take criticism with the best of them.

However, neither wifing or parenting have right or wrongs. As far as I can see, it's just a big old blur of possible options which may or may not turn out to be positive in the eyes of your family and the unique characters therein. There are no manuals (that should be really taken as such anyway), no tried and testeds and no sticky stars. This, I could probably cope with if there was some clear black-and-white-here-is-the-answer or with-the-right-research-it's-likely-this-could-be-correct stuff elsewhere in my life, but right now, there isn't. I research and research to try and get the right fit for us, and am managing to largely stumble onto stuff that seems to sit right, but it's pretty nebulas. If the plan goes to plan, this is it for a while. I am me, wife, mother and owner of a spaniel with anxiety issues. In no part of life is anything a clear cut 'do this to achieve X'. That means anything that goes well is a good day, anything that goes wrong is my fault. (Ok, in a healthy mind, maybe that's not the case, but in mine it is.) And it wasn't until last night that I realised this. And it's a bit of a problem.

So firstly, I admitted all this to my long-suffering man, who needed no confirmation that his wife has a few issues. He pulled his usual 'oh dear, love', sighed, gave me a hug and told me I was a Nellie. As is to be expected. So that's good, because now he can tell me when I'm being silly before I go supernova on him over nothing. (And sometimes telling me might make things better, not worse. Sometimes.)

It's mostly me that needs to try to reprogramme, and that's going up take time. Interestingly, this has all coincided with me looking into non-rewards-based parenting. I'm far from done with my reading and thinking phase of it, but I think the self awareness moment I've just had helps to add another dimension to it. It's not just parenting, all these decisions we make about how to raise our children. It's a potential programming of how they're going to think and define themselves in the future. I'm not for one moment suggesting my parents did it wrong. Not all children turn into odd driven beings with self-esteem issues. My munchkin is, so far, quite similar in attitude and temperament to me, though, which could indicate a following of similar patterns of behaviour if given the same parameters.

The biggest challenge for me with non-rewards-based parenting is that it's just so alien to me. My immediate response to anything the munchkin does is 'well done!' My encouragement of a well-inserted jigsaw piece falls into 'brilliant, now do it again with another piece!' This is not ideal verbal interaction, if the writers on this area to be believed.

What a beautiful thing...

More research needed, I can feel myself erring towards this form of parenting, which can only mean one thing. A big dose of relearning for me, and a life void of sticky stars in the future. Apart from on art projects, obviously. Maybe that's where I'll learn to get my hit.

The girl with the curl

My mum used to recite that all the time when I was little. Or, that's how I remember it now. I couldn't tell you if she ever said it directly to me but it still feels like a defining poem.

My little girl, at the age of one, is a definite Girl with a Curl. She's an absolute delight to be around, except on the rare occasion when she's hideous. She is fiercely determined to get her own way, especially when it isn't my way, and her independence knows no bounds. There are times I want to scream at her mood swings - and then realise the reason for my irritability at her sudden change in temper is my own challenging and interchangeable mood.

Faced with a fall resulting from too many steps too quickly, or a bang on the head from a chair that appeared from nowhere, she won't cry, or need a cuddle. She'll get angry, and try again. Thwarted by a pesky piece of pear slipping around on the plate, she'll sooner go without it then accept me picking it up and offering it to her. And woe betide me or anyone else coming between her and her own way, whatever that looks like. That girl has an incredible set of lungs on her and she's not afraid to use them. I spend a lot of time trying not to shout back. Because that will teach her that answering shouting with shouting is right and I don't want that. It doesn't mean that isn't my natural inclination though...

It's incredible how much of my curly personality this little girl has inherited. Meanwhile, I'm trying to straighten my curls like crazy so she learns from a decent role model, rather than the equally hotheaded mother she has.

There's a flip side to being a curly girly though. To have a curly side requires feist. It needs a streak of defiance which can mean tenacity, determination and a will to achieve what we set out to achieve. It means we have passion - and that whilst we have an opinion on everything, it's because we care enough to have researched and then formed one.

I try to remember this when we're at loggerheads, like this morning when we were getting dressed happily until she decided she wanted to put her top on (she can't yet), I insisted on helping, so she slapped me and threw the top on the floor. 'We don't hit people. It doesn't show love and it makes me feel so sad when you do that' is what comes out of my mouth in a calm tone - but really I can completely sympathise. I once threw my hairbrush across my bedroom so vehemently that it snapped in two - because my hair wouldn't 'go right'. And I was 16. She's only 1.

A very curly girly... Love this film!

I'm dreading the phases when we'll undoubtedly clash - and the areas we'll likely clash on, if she's as precocious and full of 'right' opinions like I was for so many years. I think I've mellowed and become more open minded and reasonable as I've gotten older - but that might just be compared to how I used to be; you could meet me and still think I'm self-righteous and supercilious. (I hope not, but it's definitely possible.)

Teen years aside (which I'm already bracing myself for), I think the positives of this family trait outweigh the negatives. I'm looking forward to helping my little munchkin look up information on the latest thing she has to know all about, to debating opposite views and learning tolerance for other opinions. I can't wait to see her stick to her guns and hold tight to her beliefs, whatever they are. To seeing her strength of self and her sense of justice blossom and encouraging her to use these things do do something tangible or proactive. Because if there's something that a Curly Girly isn't, it's apathetic or unmotivated.

Maybe, thinking about it, I shouldn't be trying to straighten my curls - because then she won't have the kind of role model that I want her to have. I don't want to be flat. Maybe I just need a good dose of personality Frizzease to help tame those curls and keep them beautiful and shiny rather then wild and ugly. Because as Girls with a Curl, we can choose to embrace the parts of this character that are valuable and with so many great parts, I'm proud that my girl has a distinctive curl of her own.

A generous Lent

For Lent, I used to give up something that would eventually make me feel better about me - maybe chocolate, or drinking, or something else with health-and-thin-inducing benefits.

Then Tearfund started 'the carbon fast' and I began giving up something a bit more worthwhile, something that might benefit others or the environment - my car for a week to save the fuel and pollution, perhaps, or my favourite fruit that was so far out of season that it took several aeroplanes to bring it to my local supermarket. (The carbon fast is brilliant, and whilst it's not their current Lent-push, the Tearfund resources are still available if you fancied an eco-flavoured Lent this or next year - you can find them here.)

This year, I'm not giving up anything though. I'm taking up something: a generous spirit. I came across the 40 Acts challenge via an old uni friend's Facebook page - and I'm so glad she posted about it. Every day, an email with a short thought and a challenge comes my way. Whether it's to be more generous with my time for others, to the environment, with my material possessions, or my thoughts and cares that day, it's really helping me to think about being a more generous person in every way.

Yesterday, I was challenged to be more generous with my thanks, and I realised how a simple thank you can be a huge encouragement when you feel overlooked or ground down. Today, I'm being encouraged to hold onto my things more lightly, perhaps to strip away belongings that I just don't need and give them to others, or to give away something I really love to someone who will value it as much or more.

I wonder what it would be like in my local area if all of us were trying to be actively generous to each other? The recycling box that has blown down the street might find it's way home, the park might be litter-free, there might be relationships growing in more places down the street, less dog mess around, more meals or flowers dropped off at doors with a smile. The local tip would have less sofas chucked in it, and the housing estate across the way would look as homely inside as our road does.

If I was more generous with my time and my care for those around me, I might have known that my neighbour had been in hospital for two weeks and made an effort when she got home to offer to help with cleaning, shopping, or just some company.

I'm not an ungenerous person. But I have realised that I am generous to the people I love. I give my time to the causes I care about most, or offer help where I want to give it. I am generous where being generous is easy. And this challenge, for me, is about changing my mindset around generosity - we are told to love our neighbour as ourselves, and that everyone is our neighbour. That means it's time for me to be generous where it's inconvenient, or to give my time to someone that I'd perhaps rather avoid.

So this Lent, I'm asking God to prompt me each day to be generous in the way that He is, to give my time, efforts, love and kindness to the people, things and situations that are on His heart, regardless of whether I like them or not. And it's really hard.

It's so much harder than giving up chocolate that I can't help but think that this is the way that God has always wanted me to observe Lent.

If you're interested, it's not too late to sign up to 40 acts - go to www.40acts.co.uk :)

The land they claim

There is something that the elusive 'They' didn't tell me about motherhood. That, from the moment your child comes along, they take a flag with their name on, carve a rough boundary line around a chunk of your heart, and a corresponding chunk of your brain, and stake their claim.

Staking their claim in the brilliant / guilty pleasure
which is 'Far and Away'.

Having spoken to other mums, they have felt this too, some to the extent that they can't find space for themselves in their heads anymore, some quietly panicking that they'll never 'switch off' again. Someone said to me the other day that this claim staking is making them wonder whether there's literally enough space in their heads for the three children originally planned. I can see that. Whilst the heart space is a slight concern, it's the head space that really concerns me.

I think I used to be a vaguely intelligent person. I have a first degree and a small handful of good jobs well done to confirm it. And please don't get me wrong, I am not saying for one moment that having a child has turned me into a stupid, unambitious zombie (a description of mothers that a 'Stylist' magazine poll on motherhood aired to the masses a few weeks ago - as just one viewpoint, I should quickly explain before I unwittingly begin a war on Stylist by mums everywhere). But I do doubt how well I would do back in my old working world again, and I'm not entirely sure that it's all about 'baby brain'.

Initially, in pregnancy, I hated the baby brain and did truely feel like I was losing myself. My good memory, recall, vocabulary, all gone in a flutter of little fingers and toes. I still forget stuff now, 11 months into motherhood, but I don't think it's baby brain in the sense that it was. I just think my brain can't run at full capacity anymore on the things it used to. It has to run an additional programme all the time, sometimes as the main piece of software, but always in the background, and it uses memory. It's taking up space. My additional programme? Mini-Peel 1.0.

This could well be an  accurate picture of Mini-Peel 1.0. Really.

Whether it's running calculations on the time until another nappy change or how much calcium has been had today, or more sophisticated algorithms like what kind of schooling we want her to have or how to make sure she understand her emotions as she develops... It's always on. Always. And it makes all other brain activities - not harder... Just less important. It makes my other brain activities lack the conviction,  the ballsey 110%-or-nothing attitude that meant they got accomplished really well. Because there's just not 110% there to give them now.

I said at the start that it's something that's shocked me about motherhood. There may be daddies out there who have had their chunks of brain staked too, but I don't think it's as widespread. My husband is the most supportive partner and the best dad I could ever have imagined. His heart is firmly in the sticky grip of our little'un and he dotes on her. He also is happy to admit that when he shuts the door to the house and leaves for work, that's it until he's home. He is daddy no longer unless his phone rings and it's me on the line. He is himself, doing a good job at work, with clients, in meetings, with his team, wherever he is. His heart may have been staked at the moment she was born, but his head is firmly his own when he chooses it to be.

And thank goodness! One of us has to earn the pennies and I'm not convinced he'd do as well at work if he was worrying about what to do the first time our one-day teenage daughter brings a pimpley youth home and announces she's in love. Or how we'll manage things if she ever gets bullied. Or hooked on drugs. Or retreats into herself and shuts us out. These are all things that Mini-Peel 1.0 is running at this moment in my head and I am hugely thankful that my husband can get through his day without its myriad distractions.

I'm shocked by it, this incessant whirring of my mind around my little girl, but I'm not resentful of it. I've chosen to make this my full time job for now, and in my last full time job, I would start early, stay late, check emails at all hours, and often dream about work. In some ways, it was always whirring away in the background, so it makes sense that my new job has me doing the same - plus a bit extra, given it involves the life of a real little person.

In some ways I'm grateful for it, Mini-Peel 1.0, because it keeps me from succumbing to the selfish urges I get - to just ignore her whinging for a moment so I can have a few more moments in the shower, to roll over and go back to sleep when she wakes at night. If you're a parent, you'll know these. Either that or I'm a really bad person. The background programme kicks me into remembering how important it is not to do what I want in these scenarios - and then sometimes terrifies me by reeling off a stat or psychological finding of the potential impact of me doing that selfish thing, because I read too much, retain odd things, and chances are there's a reason not to do pretty much everything in the parenting spectrum backed up by someone or other at some point along the line.

So, I'm glad that my little'un has staked her claim in my heart, and in my head, for now. It's a good thing. Until I start to wonder if that claim will one day be the reason she complains that she has an overprotective mother and it's damaging her ability to be truely independent. Or tells her flatmates that I have empty nest syndrome and am driving her away with my constant calling... But there goes Mini-Peel 1.0 again, and quite frankly, those are concerns for Future Me to deal with.

The essence of calm

I've been thinking about this for a while, off and on. Mainly because, if you were to consider what the essence of calm is, you would probably look for the opposite of me.

It's not really a Christmas thought, but this Advent had thrown it into sharper focus.

I've always wanted to be one of those graceful people, the ones who are likened to a swan. Me? While my legs are paddling frantically under the water too, unfortunately you can tell by all the splashing. And my face is all red and splotchy. And I'm exuding a kind of mild panic and chaos that has most sane people avoiding me, lest they catch the 'do-too-much-in-not-enough-time-and-badly' lurgy.

After agreeing to do too much this Christmas, as usual, and having more than a few concerned texts post seeing me (you'd never ask to my face...)  checking if I'm ok because I 'seem a bit stressed', I've started to think about this from a parenting perspective.

On becoming a parent, I re-evaluated a lot of my less positive traits - bad language, bad temper, bad moods - because I didn't want my daughter learning these things as part of her 'how to be a human' study. And I definitely didn't want her developing her own bad traits as a result of my poor self-control.

That's all a work in progress on its own, and I seem to be adding more and more character traits to my list of things to do better. But what of the 'do-too-much' syndrome? The headless-chicken behaviour? I wonder now if that is yet another trait I need to try to improve on. Is an air of chaos really something I want to teach her?

In my last job, before having my girl, I had a wonderful CEO - a visionary, who inspired and motivated everyone. And who had everyone in a fluster the moment she walked into the office. To try and protect those I lead from the immediate feeling of stress that accompanied every new business venture, I made as much effort as I could to push away my own tendency to flap. I tried to be a buffer between the chaotic brilliance of the idea and the methodical carrying out of the tasks needed to make it all happen. This was completely counter-me, but it was worth the effort to act against my natural tendencies - my team was much happier.

So, if I was able to make this much effort for my team, my workplace, surely I should be able to pour much more into setting an example for my little munchkin?

The wonderful Susan Sarandon playing Marmee -
look at that wise expression!

I have often struggled to be the person I want to be. When I was younger, I used to imagine Marmee from 'Little Women' sitting me down and telling me that I was 'more intent on reshaping [my] dear little nose then on fashioning [my] character!' That said (to Amy, actually), I always related most to Jo, being louder and larger than life while wanting to be - no, wanting to want to be - gentle and ladylike, but finding my own character fighting against it.

Now, I'm a 'Marmee' myself, I need to be doing the telling, not being told. I need to be the example to follow, not the mess being gently corrected. Oh dear.

So I guess I'll add 'being calm' to my list of character traits to work on. I'll gently correct myself (or at least try not to berate myself too severely) every time I catch myself flurrying around like a whirling dervish and catching up, or repelling, people in my hurricane.

A graceful swan - without the hiss...

With plenty of perseverance, one day, I'll be a swan, and hopefully, my little one will see a calm, graceful Marmee to look up to and try to emulate.

However, that wonderful saying that it takes a village to raise a child is true, and I can't have every good trait for her to learn from on my own. So if my swanlike aspirations fail, I'll just have to direct her to the more positive role models for calm and poise that she's sure to be surrounded by, when my own model is flawed.

Gifts of love

Welcome to the December 2014 Carnival of Natural Parenting: Greatest Gifts
This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama. This month our participants have suggested go-to gifts and gifting experiences for the holiday season for all your loved ones.
***

When I was little, we had plenty. It wasn't much, but it was all we needed.

My parents were young when they had us, which meant young in their careers too, and I know that my dad, who was away with the Navy a lot of the time, always had a second job moonlighting as a chef or a farmhand when he was shore-based.

Not THE dress, but it's similar...!

My mum used to make a lot of our - and her - clothes, and my dad was a dab hand with the sewing machine too. Handy at quite a bit, actually - he made my brothers bunk beds, and when our tiny two bedroom house got too small for a family of 5, he turned the end of the hallway into my very own bedroom. Seriously cool - it had a cabin bed and everything.

And that way of life is how I remember the best Christmasses I had.

My all time favourite Christmas present - I must have been about 5. We were excitedly gathered outside the lounge waiting for daddy to finish shaving (which I now know he did to build the suspense more, given that he's usually the first to be heard at 5am on Christmas morning stage-whispering 'It's Christmas - can we get up now?!!'). After what felt like hours, and was probably around five minutes, the door was slowly opened, and there, hanging on the curtain rail, was my Christmas present.

Bright red needlecord with a white cotton embroidery anglais border around the bottom. It was beautiful. It was the kind of pinafore that princesses wore (because everyone knows that flouncy skirts would get in the way on all the exciting Princessy adventures). And it was brand new, made just for me.

Wow. I don't remember a lot more of that day. I don't remember a lot of loss of my Christmas days over the years, or the gifts that many people carefully selected for me. But I remember every bit of that dress.

I'm not a fan of the way Christmas can get overtaken by gifts - not even specific gifts, but just a sheer volume of wrapped stuff which, come thank-you card writing time, we can barely recall. Don't get me wrong, I love presents. I love getting wonderful things that I can't justify buying myself, I love the exciting stack of colourful paper packages under a gorgeous-smelling, ornament-covered tree. But I don't want to trade that for the wonder of feeling so special to those around me that they wanted to give me something they had carefully and lovingly planned to be just for me. And I think, sometimes, we can be overwhelmed by volume, rather then specifics.

This year, my husband and I have been thinking up ways to ramp up the magic-factor for Christmas, ostensibly for our munchkin, but very obviously for us, as she just won't care beyond the mountains of tasty foods she can wolf down... Apparently self-opening doors to the lounge where the tree etc is waiting is our favourite. Why we hadn't thought of it before is quite worrying, it's an obvious must for any self-respecting household.

Said Wheelybug - available from many a place, I'm sure...

We are also making most of our gifts, partly for financial reasons, but also because there's something quite wonderful about receiving a present that you know has had time, effort, care and thought put into it. A lot of our friends and family are homemade Christmas fans too, and I'm sure a good proportion of our gifts will have been made rather than bought.

Our munchkin is getting a second hand Wheelybug, but she's also getting a handmade, slightly imperfect dress, because, 28 years on, I still prize that gift above every other I have been given, year on year. And that means, clearly, that there must be something a bit magical about a homesewn Christmas outfit.

***
Visit Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama to find out how you can participate in the next Carnival of Natural Parenting!
Please take time to read the submissions by the other carnival participants:
(This list will be updated by afternoon December 9 with all the carnival links.)

• I Want to Buy All of the Things — The Economama discusses whether there's a way to buy all of the baby stuff she desperately wants for her daughter without spoiling her.
• The "Collectors" and the "Concentrators": How Children React to Lots of Presents — Laurie Hollman, Ph.D., at Parental Intelligence discusses two types of children who receive gifts: the "Collectors" who rip open the wrappings on their their presents and love to count them and the "Concentrators" who spend endless time on each gift ignoring the array of presents around them.
• The Joy of Giving and Receiving — Ellen at Life With Lucien shares her three-year-old son's new favorite toy for imaginative play.
• Books: Best Present Ever! — Holly at Leaves of Lavender discusses some of the many reasons why books are the ideal gifts for little ones.
• 10 DIY Gifts You Still Have Time To Make — A roundup of 10 DIY gifts that don't take much time to make from Doña at Nurtured Mama.
• Pumpkin Gingerbread Loaves - A Delicious Holiday Gift — Jennifer at Hybrid Rasta Mama shares one of her favorite recipes to make and give during the holidays. This Pumpkin Gingerbread Loaf is much anticipated by her friends and loved ones. Learn how to create this delicious gift from the heart!
• Christmas gifts for dreamers — Tat at Mum in search shares her favourite books and resources that have helped her get inspired and move forward towards her dreams this year.
• Natural parent's baby shower registry — Since she had everything already for baby #3, Lauren at Hobo Mama is amusing herself by building a list of essentials and a few fun fripperies for a natural-parenting nursery.
• Gifts of love — Charlie at PeelingClementines recalls her favourite Christmas gift of all time and thinks about how to add this magic to her little one's first Christmas.
• The Gift of Letting Go — Dionna at Code Name: Mama has discovered that when you're a perfectionist, sometimes the best gift is simply releasing yourself from self-imposed expectations.
• Montessori Inspired Gifts for Babies and Toddlers — Rachel at Bread and Roses shares gift ideas that were a hit with her son last year and what's on her wishlist for this year.
• Giftmas Ideas for Kids — Momma Jorje offers an original gift idea that hasn't been overdone and is good for the kids!
• Favorite CDs for Babies and Toddlers {Gift Guide} — Deb Chitwood at Living Montessori Now shares her family's favorite CDs for babies and toddlers, some of which were favorites of her children and are now favorites of her granddaughter.
• The Birthday Turned Christmas Wish List — That Mama Gretchen forgot to share her birthday wish list this fall, but she's still wishin' and hopin' a present or two will arrive for Christmas!
• 8 Thoughtful Non-Toy Gifts for Baby — Is your family asking for hints for presents to give baby? Moorea, guest posting at Natural Parents Network, offers this list of ideas that won't overwhelm your little one with toys.

Brutal truths

My beautiful boy - looking like butter wouldn't melt

Today, my spaniel thoroughly defied me. I'm talking out and out rebellion.

For over half an hour he evaded my demands, sat blatantly on the path ahead, head cooked as if he just didn't understand the command we spent 18 months perfecting. When eventually he did decide to come, it was begrudgingly, and at the last moment, he sprung away with glee and we began the stand off again.

I struggled to keep my voice calm, struggled to focus on him and not the disgruntled noises coming from my sling, struggled not to either lose my rag completely or burst into tears. A little whiny voice in my head was complaining bitterly about how unfair it was that we had spent 18 months of exhausting, painstaking training to get to casual obedience, only for us to pop out a baby and watch our dog turn delinquent.

After a few moments of this monologue, I looked down at my munchkin. I looked at my Crazydog, so cute in his defiance. So lovable.

And my head went: Oh. So this is what parenting is going to look like. 

At which my heart sort of split into two personalities. One nodded sagely and acknowledged the great but rewarding challenge that my husband and I have taken on. The other let out an awful despairing wail. It wasn't pretty.

Crazydog and Munchkin playing happily

Walking home, Crazydog firmly on his lead and trotting meekly - even apologetically? - at my side, I had a little faith insight too. That this exhaustion we feel when we watch our dog / child / selves completely undermine all previous training / parenting / self-insight and bettering must be something God feels daily about me. Watching me make a mess of a fragile relationship with a crass word, lose my temper because I haven't asked for help from Him, feel resentment when I'm asked to lend a hand, but I'm 'too busy'. He must sigh, focus on me and repeat his command calmly, again and again until I get it.

This helped. If you don't relate to this angle of thought, please just brush it aside and know that if you have felt like this, so too have many, many other parents.

If you have a faith too, and can relate to God as your Father (I think He embodies mothers too in his nurturing role, but that's probably a whole other post / discussion), maybe this will help you too. Because in my struggles as a parent, I learned a bit more of God's heart,  understood a bit more that He really is the ultimate Parent. I hope that, by being a parent myself, these reminders on a daily basis might help me grow closer to Him. Perhaps I might get better at listening to His guidance too.

I have to admit that the day didn't really get better and, being a bit under the weather, I found it hard to relate to the more philosophical and calm part of myself. That said, she is still in me somewhere, even on the hard days, so she must be tempering the inner scream even when I don't realise it. And I can take a breath and ask for God's peace and calm when I don't have enough of my own.

I don't really have much of an idea how to morph more thoroughly into the sage Earth Mother I'd so like to be and away from the panicked, impatient mess that I too often am, but that doesn't mean I won't keep looking. And hopefully, asking for help along the way.