Fearless
In many ways, parenting is simply a series of opportunities to pretend that you're fearless. You get to act like you weren't in a panic the first time the baby sleeps more than three consecutive hours. You look around nonchalantly the first time the toddler nearly falls from the top of the stairs. You smile and nod like everything is cool the first time your kid rides a bike. And the first time your kid wanders into the world unescorted? It's all good. No fear here!
It is all an act, of course. There is no such thing as a fearless parent, and that's partly because kids spend a great deal of energy trying to scare the crap out of their parents.
Go ahead and take my heart rate each time Mila pulls herself up on some furniture. I am absolutely convinced she's going to fall and crack her skull open. So, while my face may seem calm, I AM FREAKING THE HELL OUT.
See also: Mila is mobile. Like, for real mobile.
Her being mobile is scarier than anything that Hollywood could craft. I walk around with my heart in my throat all of the time because electrical cords, small toys, dogs, all of the things. There are so many opportunities for her to give me a heart attack.
Mornings are fun, is what I'm saying.
This morning I carefully placed a happy Mila on her playmat in the bathroom, just like I have nearly every day of her short life. That's where she hangs out while I shower. It's the place that makes her very happy. There are toys, things that light up, and all sorts of fun friends.
This morning, however, she was having none of it. Just as I dumped a handful of soap on a poof, Miss Mila started yelling. The yells quickly escalated to crying and then there it was. She immersed herself in a meltdown.
I could only sort of hear it, fortunately. Our master bathroom shower is inside the water closet. It's a tiny little shower that is straight up ridiculous, but sometimes that tiny shower that is inside a room inside of another room is a nice buffer from the real world. I mean, I felt bad that Mila was upset, but I knew she was safe. And I could only kind of hear her.
Despite the closed door and running water, I did in fact hear the moment when Mila decided to take action on her anger. She continued to cry and yell, but I could hear her moving. Closer.
And closer.
And closer.
Even though I knew she was doing it, the moment when she pulled the bathroom door open and yelled into the shower? TERRIFYING.
Then it got worse.
She spotted the toilet.
That right there. THAT is the fastest I can rinse conditioner out of my hair. I managed to scoop up the little troublemaker just milliseconds before she could reach her tiny fingers up to pull herself closer to the toilet bowl.
Thank goodness.
It was terrifying.
But it wasn't as terrifying as a little moment that happened on Friday. On Friday, Alexis greeted me as I entered the house after a long day at work. She wore a grin on her face and was bouncing with excitement. "Momma! Guess what! Guess what! I got my recorder in music class today!"
Parenting is simply a series of opportunities to pretend that you're fearless.
(Pass the earplugs, please.)
Sunday, February 1, 2015
Reader Comments (3)
We've had a recorder hanging around since October or November. I can't recall exactly, but I do recall it was during that time in which I was having Gall Bladder issues, pre-surgery.
It's not as terrible as you'd think. At some point you WILL be able to block it out. Oh and hopefully you'll be lucky and only have it for this year. We're stuck with ours for THREE YEARS.
it must be quite difficult having your heart walk around outside of your body.
Yeah, recorders aren't bad at all. The plastic ones are usually a bit shrill and notes are just an approximation, but at least they don't squeak. Reed instruments squeak, loudly and horribly. (Sax, clarinet.) Bowed string instruments like the violin squeak and are usually off pitch, for obvious reasons. Drums, well let's move on. Brasses are actually not bad either, except for sheer volume.