With Love and Without Fear

I haven't forgotten that I have a blog. I met a new coworker yesterday, and when she introduced herself with ". . . and I'm a knitter," I heard myself say ". . . and I'm a writer!" So time to get to it. I've been away on vacation, taking my toddler to visit family in Alaska. This is a trip that, a year ago, I would have dismissed as impossible. My husband and I couldn't both manage the time away from work, and a thousand miles of air travel with an almost-2-year old seemed beyond my solo parenting capacity. But as my son has grown from a baby to a toddler, I've grown too. And part of my growth includes a determination to avoid the phrase "I can't" whenever possible. (Not that I'll do anything -- I still reserve my right to the phrase "I won't.") So with his second birthday (and the mandatory full-price airfare that goes with it) looming large, I decided we would go.

But realizing that "I can" fly my son to Alaska didn't solve my anxiety of "HOW on Earth can I?" How could I manage taking his little shoes off when we go through FAA security? How will I know whether to pack new books and toys, or comforting old ones? What if he refuses to eat? Or sleep? How can I be sure he doesn't get lost, or hurt? What if he screams, and screams, and doesn't stop? These kind of fears startled me awake, in the nights leading up to our trip, with my anxiety screaming in my head: "How will I do it?" And at some point, I unbelievably got an answer -- from my intuition, from the depths of my soul, from the universe or God Itself I don't know. And the answer is, "With love, and without fear."

Which wasn't exactly what I was looking for. I had hoped the universe would give me more specific directions. Maybe along the lines of "you will take the second elevator down to the L-2 gate, and then feed him goldfish crackers until he falls asleep." But instead, I got a rough outline that reminded me how I will cope: I will mother my son with love. I will not let fear overwhelm me. When things get difficult, I will rely on my love to calm me and guide my decisions.

So off I went. My newfound conviction found me hauling 30 bundled pounds of little boy up the steep stairs to a little 12-seat prop plane, too small inside for anyone to stand upright but him. And so (after our long trip from Seattle and a longer turmoil of baggage, security and lost stroller issues), we finally took off from Anchorage, across the Kenai wilderness, over the glaciers to chilly-yet-cozy little Homer, Alaska. And the whole trip turned out fine -- to keep my son calm, I found myself affecting a calm attitude even when I didn't feel it. And my "message," or whatever it was, was right. I did it all With Love and Without Fear. It wasn't easy, but we managed. Even bedtimes away from home (which I was dreading without husbandly assistance) went smoothly, with the substantial assistance of my loving and fearless sister who enjoyed the moments of snuggling her sleepy nephew while I enjoyed emptying and loading her dishwasher. With Love, and Without Fear.

And now I'm noticing all the ways this applies to parenting. How will I cope if my son screams and hits when I'm running late to work and straining to buckle him in the carseat? With love, and without fear. How could I ever manage another pregnancy and childbirth? With love, and without fear. How will we get him to sleep tonight? And the next night, and the next? Same answer.

I have a lot more mom-thoughts I'm trying to get down this week: one mess of ideas about "tantrums" and one about "praise." But today I'll stick with the theme: That with my son facing down the Tender, Terrific Twos, I've found tremendous strength in believing that "with love, all things are possible." And that this is ultimately enough -- no matter how much I might personally prefer "all things are easy." In my more difficult moments, I'll try to remember pressing my cheek against my son's silky blond head as we watched out the window of our little plane -- over the trees, I told him, over the mountains and above the clouds -- each of us amazed, for our own reasons, that we really can fly.

Books:
Your Two Year Old
Easy to Love, Difficult to Discipline
Unconditional Parenting

Websites:
Dr. Sears on Why Toddlers are Difficult
Crystal Lutton on Tantrums
Get off Your Butt Parenting