The truth about living with a toddler…

And they stay in their jammies until noon sometimes…

And they refuse to eat anything except chocolate cake and bananas…

And they get sick and cranky and want to watch THE ELMO MOVIE a hundred times…

And they get mad at you for saying “No”…

And they are so, so, so, so the best people on the planet.

I’m watching Poppy grow at speeds so fast that sometimes I have to stop, spin around, check that my underwear is keeping up, and continue running forward as fast as I can as to not lose track of the days, weeks, months flying by. Poppy is developing such a sense of adventure and curiosity of the world at large. She likes to see what objects around the house will balance on each other. She likes to feel paper, fabric, and especially crunchy things. She likes to run barefoot in the grass and on the neighbor’s garden path. She listens to sounds all around her and she hears Daddy walking up the porch before the cat even hears him. Poppy runs away from me when we’re out at the park. She scampers away to hide between the endless rows of books at the library. Try as I might to cling to her, she is learning independence.

The other day, I was remembering back to a post I published with the manifesto The Idle Parent by Tom Hodgkinson. And holy crapadoodle. This thing is amazing. And even more super amazing now that I’m living it out with this independent kid-child-girl.

And just as I was re-reading this manifesto, I stumbled across Lenore Skenazy’s blog Free Range Kids. And again, I say holy crapadan. I’m so happy people like this exist in the world. People who remember how they grew up and don’t feel afraid to say “Hey you SuperMom, let your kid be a kid for one second!”

Parenting is hard work, especially the constant I-Am-Responsible-For-This-Human-Being-At-All-Times nagging feeling. If I take Poppy out in public, there is a tremendous stress I feel to be constantly parenting her. Making sure she isn’t causing a disturbance or breaking some unwritten rule of society. Is she picking that kid’s NOSE? Making sure she is on her most perfect behavior so the woman at the deli will be happy with us and offer Poppy a piece of turkey to get us through the rest of the shopping trip. Or the stress to always be presenting a kid who is well-mannered, adorable, and likable. Ugh, likable. I hate that word. But it’s true, I feel this kind of pressure as a parent. And this pressure fights against my desire to treat Poppy with respect and to let her be who she is – a spunky, funny, inquisitive little toddler. That is so important to me too. It’s hard to balance my two Mom Suits.

Good manners, yes. Respect for others, absolutely. But cookie-cutter kids with no kid left in them? No way. Not for us.

I don’t know where I’m going with this post. Guess I just got a little crazy because I’ve recently added caffeine back into my diet. And so here I am on the Internets rambling about parenting.

Peace.

Doesn’t she look so grown up? It kills me how awesome having a toddler is. Poppy has a great sense of humor, a strong will, and a sweet smile. It’s like raising a small human. A human with defined emotions and ideas and quirks. She quacks like a duck and meows like a cat. She rubs my belly and says “Baby!” She kisses her daddy good-bye in the morning. She likes a boy and says his name all time. She loves to read. She chases bubbles. I mean, really people, does it get better?

I am privileged to be a part of her life. It has nothing to do with the role of mother. It’s a completely different feeling than I ever thought I would have towards my children. This small person didn’t come into my life to make anything of me. I find less and less of myself these days. I watch her grow and become the woman she will be everyday. I stand here to help, hold, guide, scold, praise, and let go.

In the meanwhile, I really need her to stop getting into the toilet paper.

Now that Poppy’s first birthday is passed, I feel such a sense of relief. I can hardly explain it. Celebrating the end of her babyhood this weekend brought on sort of strange, yet welcomed, emotional release. I’m not kidding.

It started when I spent all of last week looking at pictures of her first few days in the world. I stared for long, long periods of time at her tiny hands, her dark squinty eyes, her wrinkled skin, and her jerkish movements on video. By the time Sunday rolled around, I felt a total sense of release, like a weight lifting from my heart. Again, I’m not kidding. I cried a few tears alone that morning, but then things started to change. Even the way I look at Poppy today is different. She’s full on into toddlerhood and I am finally okay with that. Did you hear me? I AM OKAY WITH THAT.

Even during the tough times and sleepless nights, I think I did a pretty fine job of staying present in every moment this past year. I don’t regret ANY decision, not even the bad ones. I can close this chapter on our lives and say that it was a very well-spent year. It was rich and full and crazy and rewarding and difficult and joyous and long and short, and well, you get the idea.

We are on to toddlerhood and so far, I like it alright. Poppy did lick the toilet seat today, but hey.

I was just about to sit down and write a blog post about something – anything – this morning, as I heard a ruckus coming from the kitchen. I walked into the next room and found a very irritated little kitty. Following the trail of CatChow pieces, I then found a little eleven-month-old with a mouthful of soggy cat food.

So, not today, Internets. I need to go throw up. Gross.