This article was originally posted on TheBLT while I was a guest columnist.
I walked into the bathroom the other day and was
surprised to see something laying in the sink: two brand new tampons
puffed full of water. Once I recognized what they were, I laughed. I
remembered that I let my daughter play with them the night before. I
don't typically make it a habit to waste hygiene products, but sometimes
you just need your kid to mind their own business. I wouldn't believe
you if you told me there were parents out there who don't occasionally
turn a blind eye to their kids enjoying an activity that's less than
desirable. Whether it's for two minutes or ten, we all need a break now
and then. Why else would we have been made to need bathroom breaks? Or
sleep?
In our family, we employ an unofficial method
of parenting; what I like to call "controlled distraction". (In the
parenting book I'll never write, it'll be found in the "Preservation of
Sanity" chapter.) This is similar to redirection, but the beauty of it
is that your child thinks it's their idea. This is a crucial factor of
success for my bold and energetic toddler. She's an opportunist; so I
can give her little wins here and there without sacrificing my (often
disputed) role as her leader. Win-win!
I'm not
competitive, nor am I a choosy beggar. I can lose a few battles if it
means I win the war. (Also a chapter in the parenting book I'll never
write: "Parenting Isn't A War Except When It Totally Is".) If I
interrupt a potty break of my own to chase my daughter around the house
to retrieve the tampons she stole from the bathroom drawer, who's the
real loser in the situation? I'll gladly risk finding a couple of
deconstructed tampons laying around if it means I get to use the
restroom in peace - whatever the new definition of "peace" is when you
become a parent.
When I imagine myself being a mom,
the image is pretty disconnected from reality. Fantasy Reghan is never
tired. Her patience meter is always full. She's perky and sweet, her
children always do exactly what she asks, and they listen and accept any
life wisdom she imparts in teachable moments. In summary, she's 100%
fictional and probably also impossible. As a real human, I need reprieve
and refreshment. To survive between rare date nights and even rarer
vacations, you gotta do what you gotta do. In some cases, that means
seeing your toddler with your toothbrush and preemptively deciding to
just start using a new one. (Advice to include in my nonexistent
parenting book: Always have extra toothbrushes.)
There's
always a chance that my future self will be appalled at my seemingly
willy-nilly methods, but if future me exists, I'll owe myself a thanks,
because those very methods kept me just sane enough to live another day.
If there's one thing I've learned since becoming a mom, it's that it
really does take a village. And, not only does it take a village, but it
also takes lots of concessions sprinkled here and there to keep the
majority of the people in the village mentally sound at any given time.
If
I ever write that parenting book, it might suffice to just say,
"Chapter 1: IDK, just wing it like everybody else." End of book.
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