Pride Comes Before A Fall

The responses were different then I expected.
I wrote in pride yesterday. Thinking to myself that I say "No" and the result is that my daughter is exceptional. The perception was that I felt bad for saying "No." But I didn't at all. What I was thinking was "For all the reasons I say "No"" - my daughter is a pleasure.

We had company this weekend. Good company, appreciative, responsive, pleasant company. And my daughter did me proud. She sat up to the table by herself - no belt, no buckle, just her on a high chair - not "A Highchair" but a high chair - eating as directed. Saying please, saying thank you. Not yet two. We went to the park and she minded us. We walked for a ways and she behaved. She hugged and kissed on cue and she ultimately demonstrated what a well behaved little girl she was.

It was like that Chevy Chase movie where he pays the town to sell his house...

I think a part of me felt validated. I'm pretty firm with Ellie and I'm often loud, and direct. If I were to look assessingly at all the parents I know, I would have to say that I think I'm the toughest on my daughter. I'm actually a pain in the ass and kind of rigid. I'm also a LOUD parent. I'll scream her name hither and yon. And if I were to guess, if anyone was judging, I'm fairly certain what elements of my parenting and personality shit is said about. Or thought.

But then I go somewhere and - oh god will strike me for being proud - but my daughter is so good. She's so freakin good. She eats what's in front of her, she sits on command. I KNOW, I know, I sound like it's dog training. She doesn't hit, she doesn't take toys. She minds adults and she's quick to forgive. She shares. And she has a tender little heart. And I think, "Hey, maybe some of my tough parenting is paying off"

Meanwhile - she's 2. The real fact is she was hatched this way and we haven't yet ruined her.

But she is good. Good as gold. Not perfect. But good.

And lately I've been defensive. Well, for the last year. Since last summer actually. Because Ellie cries. But in secret - and now not do secret I think - listen, I see her crying and frankly, 75% of the time she cries, she's aggravated and she cries in retaliation. I can't tell you how many times a group of people look up to her crying - inevitably she's yelling "Mine. Mine" and I assume the thought is "oh, that child can't share." But I see her alone, and I know my daughter can sit for hours with the same 5 toys. So I'm inclined to think my daughter is playing with something and she doesn't WANT to share. Not that she took it, but that it was already hers. So instead of seeing the initial offense, all we see is my daughter retaliating. Crying. So I feel defensive. Because here I'm touting how good she is and I'm supposing that others are like "Yeh, not quite"

Now don't get me wrong - I'm not saying she doesn't pull and whine and cry for things, or get something and obsess. But more often then not, I don't see her walking up and grabbing shit. Just not her personality. Nor does she generally just cry in a vacuum. Usually - unless I'm ignoring her which is ALSO grounds for crying - it's because something or someone is bugging her.

And I also am defensive about how sharp we are with her.
To a degree, she's my husband. You have to call her name - LOUDLY - to get her attention. See, I know her. And she's focused, and intent. So I yell "Eleanor" not as a reprimand but because it short circuits her. She'll be heading forward in her fastest manner and I have to break her thought pattern quickly. I HAVE to yell her name because otherwise, she can't hear it. I love her, I love my husband but that apple from that tree is understood. And the thing about why I don't sit a rationalize with her in the moment. She's not hardwired that way. Of course I explain things to her. But in the EXACT moment often I, sharply and I mean sharply, bark NO. Because NO breaks through. But it kind of sucks lately. Because I feel like I'm publicly being a shrew and a harpy.

But then, when I compare her to other kids, I'm ok with her overall.
I like her.
In addition to loving her.

And now more so then ever, parenting styles are coming to the forfront. If I worked full time, parenting styles would be hidden. My child would only be with us, or in daycare. But because I'm home, there are myriad interactions weekly. And lately, proudly - arrogantly - I found myself thinking that some people really, and I mean really, need to be a little sharper with their own kids. I'm not blind to my daughters faults, I navigate them in my own way, but yes. I do pass judgement. And maybe to a degree I'm spoiled. Beacuse my closest two friends also are fairly disciplined with their kids. And I'm used to their equally vigilent Mommy style. So I'm struck when Im in a setting where I need to say WTF'nF?

Go ahead, put the fear of god in 'em. Who exactly, I'm curious now, is the parent here?

So yesterday I was all proud, and feeling superior. Not superior TO anyone, just superior in that I felt we were making the right choices. I felt smugly confident that my not yet 2 year old was capable of sitting unbuckled in her youth chair, using a metal fork, eating her strawberries from a bowl, not throwing, fussing, whining, crying or acting out - but sitting like a well behaved child noshing on her fruit.

I felt very...hmmm...positive about the fact that although I AM a hardass about small things, the very big privileges I have granted her are paying off. The freedoms allowed that develop her life skills.

I felt great about it.

Until she turned to point to her sippy cup that had fallen on the floor. And her sudden sharp movement launched the chair sideways, and over. Flinging her down, caught in the arm, twisted, with the chair breaking - BREAKING into chunks and shards of wood around her. Her face down of the floor, and uppercut to the chin, with the wood of the arm pressing into the soft tissue under her ribs.

And for two seconds I thought I had just lost my child. That she was going to have a broken neck. A broken back. That in my pride I had allowed her to be hurt.

And everything I've done right to this point fled my mind.
And now I'm back at zero.
Sad.
Because for all that I thought I was so great, I'm not that great at all.