Probably the worst kind of nut punch is the self-inflicted kind. You realize you've been a jerk or uptight asshole to someone. The pain takes time to hit you. And when it does, you hurt worse than anything you could physically imagine. The pain isn't a burning in the groin, it is a pain in your heart.
Raising a child is one of the toughest tasks I've ever imagined. It is tough in the respect that you are delivered hits -- both physical and mental -- but you are eventually rewarded with something so simple as a smile. When you are, it feels better than anything in the entire world.
Lately it has been very trying, as my daughter recently turned 3. She's entered a stage of tamtrums that can occur out of nowhere. And as a parent, the manner in which you deal with it speaks louder than the loudest yell you could ever dole out. I'm beginning to realize my way of dealing with situation has caused intense stress and grief on my mind. It makes me question my real constitution. I used to think I was a pretty collected individual, capable of rolling with the punches. Now, I'm not so sure.
Tantrums consist of flailing kicks and swinging arms intended to show her displeasure with a situation, not meant to inflict pain. Every emphatic "NO!" from her cuts to the bone. Am I just not doing something right? Am I forcing her to be stressed out by becoming stressed myself? Am I taking it all too personally? I think yes to all of the above.
I just want to raise a responsible, caring child. She's a strong-willed little girl; stubborn at times. Those minutes of sheer frustration and crying hurt me almost more than she could ever imagine. She doesn't know that. She just wants to delay going to bed another 5 minutes while by finding reasons to stay up. Trips to the bathroom, 5 per night sometimes. Or she just wants to read another story.
I just stood in her room and watched her sleep for while. Silence. It was beautiful because it was only interrupted by the complete innocence of a child's slumber. Tomorrow is a new day. New battles, new smiles. All of this is "just a phase", I am sure.
Tonight as I left her room after putting her to bed she said, "Daddy. I just wanted to tell you something."
"What is it, honey?"
"I love you, Daddy."
I love you, too. I love you, too.
May 19, 2006
Introspection
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3 comments:
I'm not a breeder (yet), man, and reading stuff like this both makes me terrified about having a kid and so eager to have one...tough call...
Yeah it is such a thin line to walk, I feel sometimes. Those moments
make you really think about the fabric of your being. I would never
ever strike my child, even spanking. But something deep inside for a
split makes you think, "if she swings at me, I'll show her what it
feels like to get hit."
I'm not talking about whalloping a child. I mean a subtle smack on
the arm. Eye for an eye sorta thing, you know? But then you count to
ten, realize she's learning her boundaries and cause and effect and
such. She is 3 and 99% of the time she is a jewel to be around and
with. I never want to instill in her that it is OK to hit someone
back if they hit you.
Don't let it scare you by any means. Children are amazing. And I
don't mean that like how your married friends with 9 kids say it. I
mean it from an observer and participant. You are watching a sponge
soak up knowledge and life experience. She even tells me things I
didn't know. For instance, did you know that pigs aren't green? :)
I'd had a rough night the night I wrote that and I found it very
cathartic to sit down and write about it.
Not sure if I've ever shared this part, but she will listen to the
Grateful Dead with me and break into impromptu dance sometimes. She
dances like her old man, which is hilarious.
Thanks for commenting.
new viduals, eh?
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