With my daughter Molly now in kindergarten, I’ve had time to focus on Andy, my toddler son. Until now, my days have consisted of keeping him alive and in one piece. Whether it’s walking into walls, tripping over toys, or pinching his fingers in drawers, Andy has elevated the bruises and scrapes of childhood to an art form. Even our giant, soft, pillow-covered bed is no match for him; he bashed his face on the headboard and gave himself a black eye. How can a toddler injure himself on a queen-sized bed? Leave it to Andy to find a way!
Now that he has all my attention, Andy has blossomed. Instead of screaming about stolen toys, he smiles; instead of crying with indignant rage, he giggles. He’s finally gotten the chance to be himself, and it turns out he’s a pretty sweet, helpful little guy! Imagine my surprise when I was unloading the dishwasher (my most hated domestic task, and one that I studiously avoid), and Andy carefully handed me clean plates and cups. His face a mask of concentration, he delicately removed cutlery and passed it over to me. I was delighted and showered him with kisses and cuddles. I may have overdone it, since now Andy passes me plates all the time, whether they’re clean or not. Today, I asked him to pass me some Cheerio-crusted socks off the floor, and he picked them up, patted his chest, and said “I helpful!” I felt like the Grinch Who Stole Christmas, because my heart swelled up in my chest and darn near burst out of my body.
The joy I’ve been feeling is mixed, though, with a crushing sense of guilt for not noticing Andy before. He’s been with me his entire life, but my husband and I were so focused on keeping him healthy that his happiness wasn’t always considered. Here he is now, a bouncing two-year old, and at times I feel like I’m just getting to know him. I’m reminded, once again, that parenthood is hard and confusing. An honest parenting book would be titled: “Every Parent Feels Like a Failure”. It seems to me we’re all failures in different ways; there’s no right answer. We’re all just doing our best to make it through.
I love getting to know my little boy. Whether he’s asking for a hug (“wann hug, mummy”) or pointing out dump trucks (whoa, big twuck!”), every moment with him warms my cynical, impatient heart. I know there’ll be a day when he’ll be “too cool” for his sweatpants wearing mother, so for now, I’m hugging my son as much as I can!
