Namaste Bitches

I blame my dad. Ever since I was old enough to form memories, I can recall my father with his nose in a book. He read for knowledge, he read for pleasure, he read to pass the time. He would say ridiculously cheesy things like, “the pen is mightier than the sword”, and quotes to such effect.

He created a monster. I very quickly developed a passionate love affair with books. They became an integral part of my life. It’s how I made sense of the world and quenched my thirst for knowledge.

When I was trying to have a baby, I got books on conception, child rearing, getting your body ready for pregnancy and a bunch of other crap. As soon as I got pregnant I bought more books like, what your bump says about you and how to know if your baby will be a prick and so on. You can only imagine the titles I indulged in when my first child was born.

I would love to say that was when this all ended but there was so much more garbage to follow. Through each developmental phase I furiously hunted down books like how to make your kid not be an asshole. I’d read, implement, fail and search for a different book.

With loads of reading and a Positive Parenting course under my belt, I felt pretty sure that there wasn’t much more I could do to reign in the kids and get my shit together. Until last week.

Driving back from the Gold Coast, a friend of mine hesitantly gave me some feedback on what she had observed in the short time she was staying with me. I say hesitantly because she doesn’t have kids and therefore feels as though she is in no position to comment. (She is a qualified social worker that works with kids and is amazing).

I know a lot of mums get their back up when childless people offer any kind of words to those who have spawned. Good advice is good advice, regardless of where it comes from. Sometimes I think people with no kids have a far more objective view and have a wealth of wisdom.

Anyhow, back to the observation. She delicately suggested that maybe I get too worked up over what the demonic two year old does. That I let it get to me too much. Maybe to tone that shit down, find some Zen and move on with shit.

So I got home, stopped being angry, smiled and dealt with it all way better than I had in months. The next morning, I kept up with Zen Mumma and found my inner peace. Whenever she whacked the baby, instead of yelling at her and losing my mind, I removed the baby, smiled and went back to my business. When she had a melt down because she can’t reach the plane in the sky, I give her a hug and explain in a calm voice that it’s great to have big goals. Zen Mumma.

With a single comment, my entire way of being has changed. It’s been a week now and Zen Mumma is still in command. My kids are still pricks, the toddler still loses her mind at the most inane of things, but that’s ok. Because what Zen Mumma offers me is a lower blood pressure, a calmer state of mind and drastically reduces the compulsion to give my children away. Everyone wins.

Namaste bitches!!

suzi

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