To: Letting it Go

The other day, while talking on the phone with my dear cousin, the following words escaped my mouth:

“Sometimes I just want to know what other people say about me and my parenting behind my back.” 

Seriously.  I said that.  And, I didn’t think twice about it in the moment.  (God bless my sweet and understanding cousin.)   

Ahhh!  What is wrong with me?  Am I on the fast track to crazy mom?!   

Has motherhood torn down every wall of self-confidence and security I have ever known?  Well, umm…yea, kinda, err… a little bit, I guess, maybe?   

Well, let me explain via two examples:

Last week, I took Molly to a sweet friend’s house.  This sweet friend has a baby about ten months younger than Molly.  Unfortunately, Molly treated this younger baby as anything but sweet.  I’m not kidding.  There were so many “No’s!”, finger points, toy pulls, and all around naughtiness, I wanted to die. 

I found myself in a constant state of panic when this sweet baby would crawl in Molly’s direction.  How was Molly going to react this time?  A shove?  A scream?  I spent majority of the play date apologizing for Molly and over explaining her newfound “independence” and “sassiness” when really I just wanted to leave.  Fight or flee?  I was all about the flee…

Then, we were recently visiting some out of town family, and I was excited for all of them to spend time with Molly.  It had been a long time since they had seen her, and I was really looking forward to the day.  What was I thinking setting such expectations? Clearly I’m still learning that when it comes to toddlers, expectations usually crash and burn.  And, crash and burn, they did, my friends.  The four hours we spent poolside with all of this wonderful family, I think they may have seen about two smiles from Molly.  Not exaggerating.  If she wasn’t clinging to me like a magnet, she was, well, I don’t know…that’s what she was doing 90% of the day.  I think Daniel carried her around for a bit, but I can’t remember.

Again, I found myself telling everyone that “she’s shy” or that “she’s usually not like this.”  I plastered on my happy face and tried not to bring much attention to her blatant discontent.  Let's just say, Molly was anything but celebratory about the fourth of July.  Very unpatriotic of her.

Anyway, as I was recalling these situations to my mother last week, she listened intently then laid it on thick with this response:

I know you get disappointed when she acts like that, but it sounds like you’re taking her behavior on too much.  It’s not that you’re upset for her in those situations, you’re upset that she’s making you upset.  She’s her own person, and there are some things you’re just going to have to let go.

Bam.  Poof.  Just like that.  It CLICKED.  My mom had brought a knife to a fist fight.  And rightfully so, I might add.  Here I was expecting some advice on unruly toddlers, and she called me out on being too wrapped up in Molly’s behavior or what people thought of her.       

And, then I did the hard thing:  Admitted she was right. 

I began to reflect that so many situations are etched into my memory as either pleasant or not dependent on how Molly acted during them. 

Playgroup last week:  Molly did not share well = bad experience.

Beach with the family:  Molly had a great time = great experience.

Road trip to Texarkana:  Molly napped the whole drive = great experience.

Swimming with family:  Molly clung to me the entire time = bad experience.

Obviously, I could go on and on, but I didn’t want to . . . her point had been made, and I knew I needed to start letting go.  I mean, seriously, if I don’t lay this down, can you imagine how much of a basket case I’ll be in ten years?  Fifteen?  Twenty?  My kids will have become my only "friends", I'll have all gray hair, and I'll say things like, "We are going to wear the pink dress to Prom."  Ahh!  May-day! May-day!  Where is my white flag?? I’m not up for the task of helicopter parent, but that’s where I’m headed…

So, maybe some days Molly will be grumpy.  Some days she may be sweet and adorable.  Some days she may share all of her toys, others she may scream and cry if another kid looks at them the wrong way.  Some days she may love any oxygen breathing stranger.  Others, she may attach herself to me like rubber cement.  So, what?  It’s all a part of this thing called “raising children”, and I have to remind myself:  I can't control it.    

She’s a person, not a robot, and there isn’t an exact formula I can program into her so that she acts like I think she should act.  As her parent, I need to be there to guide her, teach her, pray for her and comfort her as she works through these emotions, but I can’t control how she reacts to situations.  And, I can't control what people will think when we leave or what they say behind my back.  But I can love my daughter unconditionally, which is the greatest gift I can really give her.    

Elsa really knew what she was talking about when she belted “Let It Go” from the mountaintop, and it seems I need to do the same… 

…No matter which Molly shows up:

Playful Molly

Unimpressed Molly

Mischevious Molly

Friendly Molly

Annoyed Molly

Goofy Molly

Skeptical Molly

Sassy Molly

Snuggly Molly

Curious Molly

They all make her who she is, and I find peace in knowing that God didn't give her to me on accident.  He knew that ALL of what Molly is and will be was a perfect fit for the mother I am for her.  She's not here to make me feel good about my parenting skills.  She's here because this is the time the Lord ordained for her, and I'm excited to see what all that entails.

So, like the magnet that used to be on my parents' refrigerator, I need to "Let Go and Let God."  

From: Paige