Love is Tough

Forgive me one more bird story.

Today as I was getting BB ready for his nap we noticed Papa Robina and one of the babies squawking away at each other outside the bedroom window. As we watched, I realized that Papa had food in his beak and was not sharing with the baby.

The rest of this story is anthropomorphism at its best...I imagine that Baby Bird can now find plenty of food for herself. Enough weeks have gone by and it is time for her to catch her own worms. Papa must still be around to help direct and guide, but he was hungry. "Get your own worm." I heard him say. The baby squawked and squawked back in protest. When he wouldn't give, she ran after him with her mouth open--panicked and angry. He calmly kept walking and promptly swallowed the worm.

Months ago in some book on parenting I came across the quote, "I won't do for my child what he can do for himself." (Or something like that...) As someone who has never had a huge need to be 'needed', I appreciated the quote. (Now, a need to be adored, loved, cared for, pampered, listened to, appreciated, understood, heard...yes.)

As my own little bird grows, I realize how hard it is to put this idea into practice. In recent weeks I have just begun to feel the growing pains of parenting. Pains that will continue every day for the rest of our lives and from what I can tell only get stronger and at times more stabbing. It is easy enough to get our babies up and walking...we rejoice in those first milestones. But growth, real growth is harder to encourage. But grow they must. They have to have freedom to fall, fail, flail...and fly. Our stepping in to help them isn't really helpful in the long run.

Now that BB can eat, sleep, talk, move all on his own, the next phases begin. How to truly live. Beneath every simple lesson is a larger one that will shape him into adulthood. Henry isn't a kid that pushes boundaries too much. He is content with most of the constraints put on him. Some constraints are ones any parent would place on their kid, others stem from a father whose own anxiety pushes him to assure a world with no risk for his kids. A fruitless endeavor to be sure. I carry my own set of parental fears, but I bring self awareness to the table and a healthy dose of faith, hope and reality. I am no dare devil but I am brave. Bravery that came from being given the space to experience those four 'f's' I just listed.

But what does happen is, being our first child, I am often slow to realize that he could be doing/trying something new. "Oh, he can sit on a chair verses a highchair." "Oh, he can drink from a big cup." "Oh, he should be learning to ride a trike." "Oh, he can go up and down the playground equipment without plummeting to his death." "Oh, he probably should put his own clothes on." "Oh, yeah...potty training." Over the past two years the list goes on and on.

My mantra of "not doing for him what he can do for himself" is good. It is helpful. It is also exhausting. Two year old pace is sssssssslllllllllloooooooowwwwwwww. I am not a teacher by nature...trying to figure out how to communicate these basic concepts takes work. He is mostly content to let me do it for him. Being consistent in allowing/encouraging him the space to try is hard for me.

But everyday, more and more, he is able to search for his own worms. I believe my job is to let him find them. Putting that belief into action is harder than I ever imagined it to be.