It’s not all Paul Simon singalongs up in herre. (Why do I always feel the need to add the extra “r” when here is at the end of a sentence? I don’t know; I just do.)
There are plenty of things I find myself stumbling to get through. Realizing that the girl who neurotically gets her hair done EVERY FIVE WEEKS hasn’t gone to a salon in four months? Yeah, maybe it’s time to carve out some mom time. The thing today I’m stumbling on is mom confidence.
I am afraid to correct or suggest other’s behavior towards my daughter. Perhaps it’s because my in-laws just won’t listen, or I’m afraid of being labeled a controlling mom, but I have trouble asserting myself. I actually – believe it or not – know what’s best for my daughter. Most of the time, anyway. Her dad plays a huge role in knowing what’s best, but I even find myself wanting to tell him to put down the iPad and talk to her. If she’s whining, she either needs to be repositioned or she needs a finger to rub on some gums. I don’t know how I know this stuff. I just do.
I know these things – whether because it’s innate in some sort of mommy gene or because I simply know what’s best for my kid. Yeah, yeah – probably some mix of all of the above. I struggle with this. The other night, K looked at me and told me what a good job I was doing as a mom. Y’all, I dissolved into tears. K is a super-hands on parent – a true partner in this endeavor. But in the extended patriarchal family I am in, I hear over and over and over about what a good dad he is, how absolutely breathtaking it is to see a man parent. K giving me the feedback that I’m a good parent too was exactly what I needed.
I’m learning how to casually suggest things. I still need some help when asking K to do things differently. I’m growing in my mom confidence. It’s just tough, man. Tough out there for a pimp, errr, mom.