I always wonder if I am doing a good job or not as a parent.
Friends say to me, “Look, she’s very very happy, and clearly smart and healthy. You’re ok, kiddo.”
I would have to agree that I have a happy kid, but I figured I might as well qualify how I have decided she is happy, or partially like her mom, a little looney.
#1 Singing. Constantly.
My daughter sings to anyone. To herself. She will tell you not to sing, “That’s my song, mommy.”
She spent an hour and half car ride singing and reading her book to her stuffed animals.
She barely wanted me in the conversation. She didn’t mind when I talked to her, but she didn’t need me.
Mommy, I’m busy here, okay?
#2 Pinching Nipples
The other day after an hour attempt to find parking at the beach–ps., we live fifteen minutes away– my daughter came home all wound up. She was sad at not being able to see the ocean, but after awhile, she began to play happily. An hour later, she pulls off her clothes, and starts running around, laughing, and…pinching her nipples.
“Stop pinching your nipples and put your clothes back on!”
I can’t believe that was even part of my daily “discipline.”
A happy child is a naked child?
#3 Thank you Mommy
Randomly, my daughter will thank me for taking her to places. Sometimes, they are places worth thanking me for like the park, beach, or a playdate.
Other times, she thanks me for taking her to the doctors…or to the food store in which we dodge a bunch of grouchy old people and women with their ta-ta’s hanging out, but not pretty ta-ta’s, in which case, that would be cool.
I either have a very happy, grateful child, or one who is so sick of being home inside with me that looking at a bunch of crazy people seems like fun to her.
Sometimes I lose my patience. When I do, I feel so guilty, like the worst piece of crap anyone has ever known.
“I’m sorry for making a bad choice and getting upset with you. Mommies make mistakes too. Can I have a hug and kiss?”
And each time, she does. Each time, she says with her displays of affection that she forgives me for being a little rotten that minute, just as I do for her.
Maybe I am not too shabby of a mother…today.