Today, I volunteered at my daughter's school. She just started kindergarten, and I fought tooth and nail with my husband to keep her home for another year. He won. I thought she needed me another year. To make up for the time we lost while I was finishing my degree, to make up for the newborn months with little O.
But. She is thriving and growing well in school.
I worked in the library putting books away (remember your dewey decimals?) As I worked with Owen in his Ergo, I listened in as the librarian quizzed the kiddos on fiction and nonfiction, on the rules of the library, etc. Charis piped up with answers every time. I thought... "hey! I'm supposed to be the one to teach her! That's my job!" I got super jealous for a minute.
Then, I finished up my chores and came home with Little O. I thought for a while... and realized this was just exactly why I didn't plan on having kids in the first place.
You see... I always, always knew that if I were to have children, then I would tirelessly and endlessly aim to teach them, to show them, to prod them to learn everything, everywhere. And, I was scared I would never have the patience to keep it up, to the level I would expect for my own children. I just thought that meant I wasn't cut out for it.
Now, I think I have turned a corner, just now, in that little library with the kiddie shelves and the smell of books. I realize that I have to just let it go.
Let go of the perfectionism; of the destructive thoughts that tell me I am not good enough, or smart enough, or patient enough to be a good parent. I know that my best is good enough. I used to think good parents were superheros. Now, I think good parents are those that know when to push harder and encourage thier children, and know when to say they are not enough by themselves, and need the help that society can provide. I am thankful she has a wonderful teacher, and librarian, and coach, and art teacher. Now, I can let go just a little. Just a little, though. I still have some things to teach her.