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The Motivation Behind My Parenting Choices
In 1988, at the age of nine, I found myself captivated by the nurturing presence of my mother as she gracefully managed her responsibilities. At that time, I envisioned a future where I would have children of my own, complete with a charming nursery decorated in a Laura Ashley theme. I imagined a husband who resembled a young Jonathan Brandis, and I focused solely on the joys of infancy: bottles, burping, and the delightful scent of baby clothes. Yet, I never truly considered the broader implications of motherhood—raising children into independent individuals capable of caring for themselves.
This realization became particularly evident during a recent holiday break when my husband was home for an extended period. I would clean the kitchen and vacuum the floors, mentally congratulating myself for accomplishing all of this while the kids were around. Anyone with children knows that cleaning amidst their presence is no small feat. Just as I would settle down with a new book, a child would inevitably interrupt with requests like, “Mom, where are my pants?” or “Can I have some water?”
Initially, my instinct was to resist these interruptions, feeling frustrated that I had just sat down. However, a deeper thought crept in: “What if I regret not responding to these requests later?” After all, the familiar adages ring true—“Babies don’t stay babies for long,” “The mess will always be there,” and “Kids grow up so fast.”
Experiences of loss and hardship linger in the back of my mind. Thoughts of children who have faced unthinkable challenges or families yearning for a child remind me of the importance of cherishing every moment. This guilt weighs heavily on me, making it seem selfish to ignore my children’s needs when I have the ability to respond.
My journey into motherhood began under stark surgical lights when I first caught a glimpse of my daughter, who was swiftly whisked away to the NICU. In that moment, I felt helpless, bound to my bed as she fought her own battles. Yet, when we were finally able to bring her home, I embraced the chance to care for her wholeheartedly.
Now, as my daughter approaches ten, she often requests that I perform tasks for her, like brushing her hair, arguing that I do it faster. I find myself questioning whether efficiency is the goal. I have repeatedly indulged her requests, believing that my involvement in her daily tasks is vital. From hair brushing to room cleaning and even, yes, occasionally signing her homework, I often take over for the sake of speed and ease.
While I sometimes feel the need to apologize for this, my desire to be present is driven by the fear of not having enough time with my children. Moments spent with them, whether imperfect or mundane, are precious, and I strive to embrace them fully, even if it means wiping messy faces or signing papers in haste.
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In summary, my parenting decisions stem from a blend of love, guilt, and the desire to maximize the time I have with my children. As they grow, I recognize the importance of encouraging their independence while still being present for them in meaningful ways.