One of the more difficult aspects of being a parent is remaining mindful of my own mood and present stress-level. I can't count the number of times I have put my daughter to bed in the evening and thought, "Geez, she was in a mood today," only to realize later, after I have relaxed, that, "Geez, I was in a mood today."
This is not to say that toddlers don't have moodiness like the rest of us; it's just that their moods are usually less tainted by the concerns of adult life. That is, toddlers aren't as complicated as their parents. My negative mood could be stemming from a conversation with a friend or family member that riled me in some way. It could be from a life situation I'm thinking about, or a financial situation I'm thinking about. I could be dwelling on how I exercise about half as much as I did before becoming a parent, or how my writing has all but ceased due to lack of time and energy to be creative. On the other end, I could be in a good mood because I actually slept for eight hours, or because I played well in my weekly basketball game, or because I got some time with friends to have adult conversation and laugh (not that raising a toddler doesn't come with its fair share of laughter).
My daughter's mood can change from negative to positive about eighteen billion times a day for reasons that are intensely present and neurologically unregulated. She could be upset because she woke up too early and decided to cry (and I use that phrase loosely, more like reacted) until my wife or I came to get her out of her crib. Even then, she may throw a fit when we pick her up for reasons that are unclear to us and, I'm guessing, unclear to her. She has no filter, no thought process around feelings. "I'm groggy," manifests itself as arching and flailing and crying, making her initial morning diaper change--after peeing herself for eleven hours--impossible. Two minutes later, she may see the cat or a toy she's interested in and be playing and smiling like the previous emotion never happened. Seeing a food she wants (right this goddamn second and screw you if you can't open a banana peel instantaneously with your mind) seems to be as intense an emotion as me smashing my finger with a hammer. Mom walking out of a room for five minutes to change clothes sucks as badly as a close friend leaving town forever. And, when she returns, it's as joyous as seeing that friend again after a decade of barely speaking.
These feeling are constant for a toddler, and ultimately beyond their capability to regulate. They lack impulse-control, and try as you might to instill some in them, their brains simply aren't developed enough to achieve this discipline. In fact, the frontal lobe, which is responsible for impulse-control, isn't fully developed until age 25 (so, slow your roll on making those big life decisions in your early twenties, millennials). Thus, the difference maker for whether my daughter and I have a good day together isn't whether or not she is in a good mood, but whether I'm able to shelve my heady emotions and be present with her moods. I have the ability to respond, rather than react, to her ever-changing emotions. If she throws a fit for five straight minutes over my not letting her go outside (because I happened to open the front door to get the mail and reminded her the outdoors exists and that she "likes to go to there"), I can't let this outburst continue to rattle me when those five minutes pass and she is ready to dress her teddy bear in her pajamas and laugh at him. I have to roll from "Worst experience in the world!" to "Greatest experience in the world!" seamlessly and constantly if I ever want to have a good day. It's a level of Zen that is nearly impossible. True, I have the ability to respond instead of react, but in the same way that a surfer has the ability to calmly navigate tidal wave-like swells breaking overhead while enjoying the ride to shore. Sometimes it's going to end in getting your head slammed into the sand. It's all a part of the process.
My ability to stay present often comes from what I do for myself in the times that I am not navigating my daughter's tidal wave-like wants and needs. There are no days off as a parent. Weekdays come and go; weekends come and go. Early mornings do not; baby's needs and wants do not. If I neglect to exercise and choose to eat like a nineteen year old living on his own for the first time, I am in a poor state to stay present with my daughter. If I try to go out for drinks with friends and don't get to bed at a decent hour, we both pay the next day. Parenting is much like any discipline I've been a part of; the healthier and more focused I am, the better I preform. In school, in sports, in relationships, in work, in writing, the more present and focused I am, the better I am. And, healthiness doesn't mean never going out for drinks or indulging in hedonistic pleasures. All work and no play can be just as detrimental as Tiger-mom-like structure. What I can't do (and can't really understand how other people do) is be apathetic. Apathy is a downward spiral. The very nature of not being present is not knowing you're not being present. Thus, if I never do the things that keep me present I never get the clarity to look back and critique the times I wasn't being present and suffered for it.
In noticing the connection between self-awareness and parenting I have become more aware of the connection between presence in the moment and all things in my life. Hanging onto an emotion I was having five minutes before while writing a frustrated email to a customer service department when I am currently presented with the opportunity to go for a run is pointless and unhelpful. Ruminating over shortcomings only gets in the way of overcoming those shortcomings. I have to thank my daughter for these lessons. She's a Zen Master without even trying. She feels things fully and authentically and lets them go immediately to move to the next moment. I miss a few shots in a basketball game and I'm in a funk the rest of the game. She slams her head into a wall and thirty seconds later she's chasing me down the hallway laughing hysterically. So, in this regard, I have many things to learn from my underdeveloped offspring. In the meantime, I can only strive to focus on my own state-of-being and respond appropriately to the toddler-ness of my toddler.
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