Parenthood is not a path you can prepare to walk on. You can read books, buy bibs and diapers and fool yourself into preparedness by painting a nursery. But the I-will-never-be-the-same love, the pleasure of kissing a warm cheek, and the shared pain when another rejects your little loves, those take us by surprise, everytime. And as my girls grow older, watching my own sins and faults infect my loves has added a new pain.
I am not alone though. My partner in this journey balances my shortcomings and I-don’t-know-how-to-handle-this situations. The passion of my oldest. The quick logical analysis of a situation by my youngest. Those traits aren’t mine.
And love, I express in words and hugs. He expresses in doing: building a treehouse, an inept description of this wonder from recycled materials; planning long bike rides around town with ice cream stops; and one on one trips which include the American Girl store though I know he dislikes the very idea of it; love for music and exposure to enough safe pop music that the girls can participate in conversations at school.
When a reoccurring discipline situation has me in tears of uncertainty he assesses the situation and brings a plan and order. And when I allow their emotions to manipulate me he stops it.
This path of parenthood is one I am thankful to not be walking alone.
Linking up today with Gypsy Mama’s 5-minute Friday writing exercise. Join us here. Today’s word: Path