Fear is the root of many evils. Fear motivates prejudices, wars, the hoarding of resources, and unnecessary, unproductive worry. Fear keeps us from taking chances. Fear can stop us in our tracks when our heart is telling us to "do the right thing." Fear is bad...
...but not entirely bad. Fear is a learned emotional response, one that my toddler seems not to have learned at all. A fearless toddler is a terrifying thing. A fearless, clever, and dexterous toddler is capable of causing her mother's insides to seize in panic multiple times a day. Let's just review today. Shall we?
First thing this morning I awoke with my clever toddler's feet in my face. She likes to be in our bed but hates being under the blankets, so she typically finds her way into our room in the middle of the night and sleeps horizontally between her parents' heads. Why not? We're obviously 'not the boss of her'. Not long after I woke, big sister "Ophie" climbed into our bed and engaged said wiggly toddler in a lovely chat about the monsters on Sesame Street. When Ophie left, Wiggle Worm wiggled her way out of bed and followed in her older sister's footsteps. Moments later I got one of those bad Mommy feelings. You other mamas out there know what I'm talking about.
I dashed out of bed and into the kitchen, where I spied my toddler standing on wobbly, tiptoes on top of the kitchen counter, reaching to get a glass vase off of the top shelf of the cupboard she had opened. She obviously needed that vase for something important. A silent prayer was issued in that instant, and I quietly swept up behind her and removed her from her precarious perch before any skulls were cracked on our impossibly hard kitchen floor. Then I turned around and snarled at the oblivious seven year old who was drawing cartoon characters a mere meter away, "Weren't you watching her!!??" Seven year olds make really rubbish babysitters, for the record.
The usual naughty, toddler high jinks ensued for a few more hours following my breakfast scare. I successfully ejected the mouthful of coins that Lili had after playing in my wallet which she somehow procured even though it was zipped in my purse and on a high counter top. (Note to self: re-read previous paragraph.) I cleaned artistic, marker-drawn graffiti from her arms and legs. I carefully wrestled the sharp knife out of her hand, which she had somehow gotten out of the dishwasher basket. In the nick of time I stopped her from ingesting the contents of a small bottle of white children's paint which she was certain resembled milk. . Baby-proofing a house where other older children live is a serious challenge and keeps me constantly on my toes...
Nothing too out of the ordinary really, but the biggest gut-seizing scare I've had in a while came later in the afternoon. Sophie had been sent outside to water the flowers while Lili sat in the floor of our office (likely destroying important tax documents) with me. Sophie returned and joined us upstairs but sought entertainment elsewhere after deciding we were rather boring. Lili followed. A few minutes later I called downstairs, as I regularly do when that monstrous toddler is not right by my side, "Is Lili okay??"
Sophie answered, "I don't know. Where is she?" This was not the response I was hoping for. I scurried downstairs and saw that the baby gate in front of our laundry room had been left open by some careless (seven -year-old) individual. "Great," I thought. I was certain I'd find Miss Naughty Pants in there eating her fill of cat food, but when I rounded the corner I found, to my complete horror, that the laundry room door that leads to the outside world had also been left open, and the toddler in question was nowhere in sight.
A horrible scream erupted from somewhere deep inside of me, "LILI!! LILI!!" I screamed, and as I stumbled gracelessly out the door and down the steps into our open garage, I saw her standing in the street at the end of our driveway. My heart pounds even now as I remember seeing her there, and my mind races to all sorts of horrible "what if" places. I continued screaming that beautiful baby's name, and she could hear that I meant business, that I was indeed the boss of her in that terrifying instant. She began to run toward me on soft, dainty, bare feet, and I scooped her up and hugged her almost forever and thanked her for not getting run over or hopelessly lost. Then I waited for my heart to stop pounding out of my chest.
You can rest assured that the little gardener got an earful about not leaving doors to the outside standing open, but then I was left reflecting on how utterly helpless human children are at this age and how fragile little lives can change in an instant. My precious little monster has thankfully never known serious pain. She has never been aware of any reason to feel fear. This will change, of course. I am eager for her to learn a bit of the cautious kind of fear that keeps us from petting hungry sharks and jumping on pogo sticks near cliff ledges, but I hate to think of the other very real things that she will grow to fear in her lifetime. Often her round, fearless toddler's face inspires me to be brave and to have hope when hope and bravery are not my natural responses.
Of course I wish I could keep her safe always. I wish I could protect her from all of the things in our world that inspire our darkest fears, but for now I will do my best to keep her environment safe and to shield her from the consequences of her own mischievous antics. Heaven help me!
...but not entirely bad. Fear is a learned emotional response, one that my toddler seems not to have learned at all. A fearless toddler is a terrifying thing. A fearless, clever, and dexterous toddler is capable of causing her mother's insides to seize in panic multiple times a day. Let's just review today. Shall we?
First thing this morning I awoke with my clever toddler's feet in my face. She likes to be in our bed but hates being under the blankets, so she typically finds her way into our room in the middle of the night and sleeps horizontally between her parents' heads. Why not? We're obviously 'not the boss of her'. Not long after I woke, big sister "Ophie" climbed into our bed and engaged said wiggly toddler in a lovely chat about the monsters on Sesame Street. When Ophie left, Wiggle Worm wiggled her way out of bed and followed in her older sister's footsteps. Moments later I got one of those bad Mommy feelings. You other mamas out there know what I'm talking about.
I dashed out of bed and into the kitchen, where I spied my toddler standing on wobbly, tiptoes on top of the kitchen counter, reaching to get a glass vase off of the top shelf of the cupboard she had opened. She obviously needed that vase for something important. A silent prayer was issued in that instant, and I quietly swept up behind her and removed her from her precarious perch before any skulls were cracked on our impossibly hard kitchen floor. Then I turned around and snarled at the oblivious seven year old who was drawing cartoon characters a mere meter away, "Weren't you watching her!!??" Seven year olds make really rubbish babysitters, for the record.
The usual naughty, toddler high jinks ensued for a few more hours following my breakfast scare. I successfully ejected the mouthful of coins that Lili had after playing in my wallet which she somehow procured even though it was zipped in my purse and on a high counter top. (Note to self: re-read previous paragraph.) I cleaned artistic, marker-drawn graffiti from her arms and legs. I carefully wrestled the sharp knife out of her hand, which she had somehow gotten out of the dishwasher basket. In the nick of time I stopped her from ingesting the contents of a small bottle of white children's paint which she was certain resembled milk. . Baby-proofing a house where other older children live is a serious challenge and keeps me constantly on my toes...
Nothing too out of the ordinary really, but the biggest gut-seizing scare I've had in a while came later in the afternoon. Sophie had been sent outside to water the flowers while Lili sat in the floor of our office (likely destroying important tax documents) with me. Sophie returned and joined us upstairs but sought entertainment elsewhere after deciding we were rather boring. Lili followed. A few minutes later I called downstairs, as I regularly do when that monstrous toddler is not right by my side, "Is Lili okay??"
Sophie answered, "I don't know. Where is she?" This was not the response I was hoping for. I scurried downstairs and saw that the baby gate in front of our laundry room had been left open by some careless (seven -year-old) individual. "Great," I thought. I was certain I'd find Miss Naughty Pants in there eating her fill of cat food, but when I rounded the corner I found, to my complete horror, that the laundry room door that leads to the outside world had also been left open, and the toddler in question was nowhere in sight.
A horrible scream erupted from somewhere deep inside of me, "LILI!! LILI!!" I screamed, and as I stumbled gracelessly out the door and down the steps into our open garage, I saw her standing in the street at the end of our driveway. My heart pounds even now as I remember seeing her there, and my mind races to all sorts of horrible "what if" places. I continued screaming that beautiful baby's name, and she could hear that I meant business, that I was indeed the boss of her in that terrifying instant. She began to run toward me on soft, dainty, bare feet, and I scooped her up and hugged her almost forever and thanked her for not getting run over or hopelessly lost. Then I waited for my heart to stop pounding out of my chest.
You can rest assured that the little gardener got an earful about not leaving doors to the outside standing open, but then I was left reflecting on how utterly helpless human children are at this age and how fragile little lives can change in an instant. My precious little monster has thankfully never known serious pain. She has never been aware of any reason to feel fear. This will change, of course. I am eager for her to learn a bit of the cautious kind of fear that keeps us from petting hungry sharks and jumping on pogo sticks near cliff ledges, but I hate to think of the other very real things that she will grow to fear in her lifetime. Often her round, fearless toddler's face inspires me to be brave and to have hope when hope and bravery are not my natural responses.
Of course I wish I could keep her safe always. I wish I could protect her from all of the things in our world that inspire our darkest fears, but for now I will do my best to keep her environment safe and to shield her from the consequences of her own mischievous antics. Heaven help me!
"When you love someone, all your saved-up wishes start coming out."
~Elizabeth Bowen
1 comment:
omg i just had this exact same moment only it wasn't kyle who left the gate from the securely fenced in garden wide open to the whole outside world where i found sam just before he stepped off of our driveway and onto god knows what - it was my mother or father in law. neither one of them will admit it. grown-ups - grrr! so relieved all is ok xox kim
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