So I have another thing to add to my "Things I said I'd Never Do When I Had Kids" list: Freak out everytime my child hurt himself.
I have determined that one reason (among many) that children need both a mother and a father is because if kids only had moms they would most likely spend their entire childhood in a protective bubble. Okay, that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but really, the mothers would spend an inordinate amount of time hovering over their children as they explored, climbed, ran, jumped, and otherwise acted, well, like children. When Benjamin is at the playground I allow him to freely play, but my hands are two inches away from his body in case he falls and needs to be caught. Nathan is constantly telling me "Let him go. He's fine." To which I respond, "But he might fall and get hurt!" To which Nathan responds, "So? He's a little boy! He is supposed to fall and get hurt!" His logic makes sense. I mean, how else will he learn to slow down and be cautious with his steps if he never falls?
Knowing that, however, doesn't make it any easier to see him take a tumble. Yesterday he was running on our driveway and stumbled on the short hill. I couldn't get to him in time to keep him from hitting the ground and the guilt washed over me as he cried for "Mama" and held his injured hand out to me so I would make it stop hurting. It was a minor fall and a few kisses and one band-aid later he was off and running again. He was fascinated with the band-aid and I had to remind him more than once to keep it on. (Luckily, the injured thumb was not the one that he sucks to soothe himself.) As I watched him play, I pondered my reaction to his fall.
As a preschool teacher, I know that when children take a spill, they usually look to the parent/teacher/caregiver and gauge their reaction before determining how they (the child) should respond themselves. If I pretend to not have seen the accident, most of the time the child will continue on their way. Or sometimes I might say, "Uh-oh! You fell down. Stand up and brush it off. There you go. All better!" and off the child goes. However, if the adult makes a big fuss over the kid, then come the tears.
Knowing all of this, I do work really hard to not make a big deal over Benjamin's accidents. And most of the time I succeed. However, when he cries or accurs an actual boo-boo (no matter how minor), I usually sweep in to the rescue, covering him with hugs and kisses and mommy-will-make-it-all-betters. And then for the next week or so I have a visible reminder of the pain my sweet boy experienced and the guilt envelops me once again. What Nathan refers to as war wounds, I see as a reflection of my inadequate parenting.
Boy, it will be a miracle if my son doesn't grow up to be a major wimp because of me. Another thing I'll have to feel guilty about!
P.S. And yes, I know how stupid it is to think I'm a bad parent because my child falls down, but what I know and what I feel are sometimes two very different things, especiall when it comes to parenting!
I have determined that one reason (among many) that children need both a mother and a father is because if kids only had moms they would most likely spend their entire childhood in a protective bubble. Okay, that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but really, the mothers would spend an inordinate amount of time hovering over their children as they explored, climbed, ran, jumped, and otherwise acted, well, like children. When Benjamin is at the playground I allow him to freely play, but my hands are two inches away from his body in case he falls and needs to be caught. Nathan is constantly telling me "Let him go. He's fine." To which I respond, "But he might fall and get hurt!" To which Nathan responds, "So? He's a little boy! He is supposed to fall and get hurt!" His logic makes sense. I mean, how else will he learn to slow down and be cautious with his steps if he never falls?
Knowing that, however, doesn't make it any easier to see him take a tumble. Yesterday he was running on our driveway and stumbled on the short hill. I couldn't get to him in time to keep him from hitting the ground and the guilt washed over me as he cried for "Mama" and held his injured hand out to me so I would make it stop hurting. It was a minor fall and a few kisses and one band-aid later he was off and running again. He was fascinated with the band-aid and I had to remind him more than once to keep it on. (Luckily, the injured thumb was not the one that he sucks to soothe himself.) As I watched him play, I pondered my reaction to his fall.
As a preschool teacher, I know that when children take a spill, they usually look to the parent/teacher/caregiver and gauge their reaction before determining how they (the child) should respond themselves. If I pretend to not have seen the accident, most of the time the child will continue on their way. Or sometimes I might say, "Uh-oh! You fell down. Stand up and brush it off. There you go. All better!" and off the child goes. However, if the adult makes a big fuss over the kid, then come the tears.
Knowing all of this, I do work really hard to not make a big deal over Benjamin's accidents. And most of the time I succeed. However, when he cries or accurs an actual boo-boo (no matter how minor), I usually sweep in to the rescue, covering him with hugs and kisses and mommy-will-make-it-all-betters. And then for the next week or so I have a visible reminder of the pain my sweet boy experienced and the guilt envelops me once again. What Nathan refers to as war wounds, I see as a reflection of my inadequate parenting.
Boy, it will be a miracle if my son doesn't grow up to be a major wimp because of me. Another thing I'll have to feel guilty about!
P.S. And yes, I know how stupid it is to think I'm a bad parent because my child falls down, but what I know and what I feel are sometimes two very different things, especiall when it comes to parenting!
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