I hope I am able to be kind

Since we returned to Prague, Gus and I have been having a hard time speaking each other's love language. He's hid all of my winter accessories. My hands are freezing. He gave me a bloody nose and dropped his oatmeal in my coffee. And then there was Wednesday. When someone you love hands you their own poop, you know your relationship needs some attention.

That night, before he went to bed, we prayed together as a family. Well, I prayed and he poked his father in his closed eye (it really hasn't been easy for any of us). I asked for a little help around here. Help learning to parent with joy.

I've been getting all sorts of appropriate parenting advice and notes and insights from folks, and it's felt sort of bleak to have well-intentioned people say such lovely things like, "Don't you feel like you're just living the best life has to offer?" when I'm scrubbing the toy excavator my son has just filled with his own urine. I've really questioned (and probably will forever) my ability to execute and endure the dirt and grime and nuts and bolts of parenting. 

Thursday Gus and I left early for school. This walk was rich with the giddy anticipation of a breather from one another. And so it was surprising when we found ourselves missing our bus in order to crunch ice. All the puddles from the day before had frozen over, and we are people who do not miss an opportunity to smash things without consequence. So we smashed and hopped and slid and skated and reminded ourselves not to eat dirty ice or to lick the tempting pieces that look like candy. (I thought of you fondly, MS, and all the times we watched the movie Beautiful Girls. I always liked the scene where Natalie Portman is just stomping snow. I share her pleasure in a good snow stomp). While ice chunks flew and Gus learned to land on his knees for a really good ice ride, a neighbor walked by and took in our mayhem. She is not a parent, but she has more parenting mojo than I'll ever muster. I'm bewildered by this girl's kid-magnetism. Kids love her. She loves kids. Oscar is totally smitten. I was pretty sure she walked off making a mental note to investigate Czech child protective services as I yelled things like, "Run over here, this puddle is REALLY slippery!" But I was wrong. Instead she later emailed that she just wanted to share her joy in "witnessing kairos (she and I must read the same blogs)", and how she was so happy to have seen such a beautiful parenting moment.

Argh. What a stinker. I wanted to tell her, "That's parenting? That's the crap Gus and I waste our time doing all day when we should be learning to cut with scissors and sing our ABCs and put on our own coat. That's the stuff that distracts him from eating vegetables and bathing properly. That's the fun stuff I do when I want to avoid what parents should be doing. That is NOT parenting." But, I got it. I get it. Thank-you-very-much pre-eye-poke prayer.

I was pretty happy to pick up Oscar after school and get my buddy back. Affirmed now in our aimless ways, we did all the voices to The Pout Pout fish together when we were supposed to be learning to tie our shoes and may or may not have hung up our jackets. And can you believe it? He even asked to use the potty and not his own hand or the Nepalese carpets. I was shocked.

This is a strange gig, this endeavor growing a human. In an On Being podast from NPR with Sylvia Boorstein, two phrases recently stuck in my head (poorly quoted):

"Your measuring stick that you're thinking clearly is that you are able to be kind."

and

"In this moment, am I able to care?"

I'm looking forward to putting those up on the wall and trying them out on the next day where I find myself gritting my teeth. And while I'm not super keen on the amount of attention fecal matter gets around here, I am pretty keen on living hopefully and on watching someone grow so admirably despite my best efforts at messing up this process. I am grateful for a community of outspoken women who remind me what I am doing and remind me what I should be doing and give me pause. I don't always agree with them, but I am happy to be walking in this path if it is one where Gus and I can take a break from the horror that is learning-to-zip-your-own-coat with an impromptu ice skate.

About twenty blissful seconds before he poured hot chocolate on my shoe.