with the stealth of lara croft, my daughter snuck into my bedroom, spun around my office chair at least 13 times, snatched a handful of chocolate covered almonds, and stuffed them safely into her mouth, chewing them well before the 2 minutes it usually takes me to find her, wherever she is, in our home.
my little girl turns 2 in a couple of weeks and she constantly asks "why" with the sure wisdom of the word's pause-inducing power over her mothers. why, indeed, do we have to put her jacket on when we're still in the restaurant and not outside? why, indeed, does she actually need to stay in the stroller? why in the world does she have to go where we're going?
all the while, my son who turns 4 in a month is constantly giving us feedback and providing us with remedial training on just about everything: what to put away, how to cook, how to make him a glass of warm milk. today, i got schooled on the fact that i should not slide a glass across the table and just about an hour ago, he told me it was "so rude of [my wife, his other mother]" not to have taken the time to say goodbye before leaving for her meeting.
there is a veritable onslaught of articles and blogs and books in these here interwebz on how to raise childre, "the right way" (never mind all that other noise on my untraditional family make-up). i read what interests me, take my grain of salt, and pay no attention to the rest.
i'm not a perfect person. i'm not a perfect mother. and like any other parent, i do what i feel is right for my family as things happen. i do my best. some days it's an uphill battle of wills (and let's face it, wits), made difficult by sleep deprivation and competing priorities - especially when i'm on auto-pilot (and make no mistake, it's ugly). other days, i'm thunderstruck with a joy that wells to the point where there simply are no words.
|photo by the wife from the top of rock island in whytecliff park.|
she and the boy scaled it together for the first time.
the girl is only nearly 2 and the boy is only nearly 4. but it is so important to me that they know that the process of learning and communicating is a road that goes the distance, under often unpredictable circumstances, in both directions.
|all photos taken at the breathtaking whytecliff park in west vancouver|