Festa del Papà 2014

You heal our bruises and pick up the pieces.
Your tireless hands hold ours.
You teach us how to write, how to run, how to fall down and laugh about it.
You bathe us, feed us, caress us when we're sad.
You proudly tape up our pictures all over the furniture.
You stay up late to learn how to make us balloon animals.
You give in almost every time we ask for "just one more story."
You don't let us get away with anything.
You let Mommy rest when she's had a long day.
You teach us generosity through your acts, not your words.
You push us to be better, just like you always strive to be better.
You show us, every single day, what it is to be a Man, a Father, a Friend.

Grazie, papà. Di tutto.

Con tanto affetto,

Le 2SER

Life Lessons

This past weekend, my mom organized a surprise birthday party for my dad...even though it was her birthday!

As part of the festivities - which we, unfortunately, couldn't attend - I made up my TOP TEN LIFE LESSONS I'VE LEARNED from my FATHER and MOTHER, which my sister-in-law very kindly presented for me at the party...

The Top 10 Life Lessons I’ve learned from my father:

1. Nothing is sacred and it’s never too soon to joke about it.

2. Pain is good because it means Happiness is right around the corner. Unfortunately, that also means that Happiness is bad because it means Pain is right around the corner.

3. Never trust weathermen, religious fanatics, doctors or Republicans.

4. It’s always better to spend the money on a tutor than to have a family member teach you how to either do math or drive.

5. Thursday is diner pea soup day.

6. Just like the old adage goes, “Do what you love and you will never work a day in your life.”

7. It makes more sense to circle around the same block 147 times than to stop and ask someone where the hell you’re going.

8. Go with the decision that will make the best story.

9. In life, it’s important to find a reliable mechanic, a current Zagat’s, someone else to change your light bulbs and a life partner who will pick out all your clothes for you.

10. Do your best every day, then go home.

The Top 10 Life Lessons I’ve learned from my mother:

1. The true job of a parent is to teach their children to be independent.

2. The latter doesn’t however necessarily include financial independence.

3. The best way to organize an all-day outing is to first decide where you’re going to eat your three meals and then work around them.

4. If I walk into a car dealership and the first question they ask me is “What color would you like?” I have permission to give them hell.

5. Worldly possessions are not worth anything at all if you can’t share them with the people you love.

6. There’s nothing a little dessert and a spa day can’t cure. Shopping has been known to be a solution as well.

7. Girls can do anything boys can do…better. Or at least that’s what the t-shirt said that she gave me when I was 8.

8. You can’t spoil children with love. Toys, however, are another story, but whatever.

9. Guilt is a powerful tool, use it as much to your advantage as humanly possible.

10. Don’t be afraid to go for it…mom and dad have your back.

 

The Mother Guilt

Today, the weight of The Mother Guilt sits heavy on me.

Not that anything in particular has happened. Yeah, it's been a rough week with tantrums galore from both girls, though mainly Sofia. We've taken milk away, carried her out kicking and screaming from a birthday party, sent her to bed right after dinner. It hasn't been pleasant for any of us.

And, well, these are the times I become most mindful of my responsibility here -- and when the inevitable therefore floats to the surface: I become ultra-aware of my flaws. The screaming when I should be patient, the angry words I wish I could take back, the unnecessary criticism, my insensitivity and lack of empathy. The expecting too much from a 4-and-a-half-year-old girl (who though, in my defence, is going on 14).

There is no doubt my daughters know I love them, and this is how I reassure myself. We spend lots of quality time together every single day and I have absolutely no problem showing them affection, talking and playing with them.

But my job - this duty I've taken on - it is so important, essential, scary. And it is forever. It's funny how looking back I realize how easy I had it when they were infants. I simply had to keep them clothed, fed and alive. Now? I'm in charge of things like teaching them empathy and cooperation and how to respect authority without giving up their personal rights. But also how to blow their noses, how to break the stem off asparagus, how to tie shoelaces and cross a street and say "Who is it?" when someone rings the doorbell.

That's a lot of information to have to pass on, and to have to do it while remaining calm and patient is almost too much sometimes. Sometimes I can hardly function in the world - how on earth am I going to get them to adulthood, all 4 of us still alive to tell about it?!

A while back I read a great book called "Raising an Emotionally Intelligent Child" which had a huge effect on how I think about parenting - and even how I look at relationships in general. Its premise is that we as parents (and as people) can use conflict and difficult situations as jumping off points for further parent-child/human intimacy and as a teaching tool for raising empathetic individuals. And, really, in theory it is very simple. Except the main crux of the book emphasizes keeping calm. Instilling patience and empathy through...you guessed it...patience and empathy.

In so many ways, I feel like I've already failed, though intellectually of course I know the road is still very long. Every day becomes a challenge to face where - even if Sofia has thrown herself on the floor crying for "ONE LAST BOOK" before bed - my one and only task becomes keeping calm and carrying on.

So, basically, I'm screwed.

I don't think I'm adult enough for this parenting stuff. But...I keep putting one foot in front of the other and wake up almost every day a cautious optimist because, well...this:

Keep on keeping on, parents. Trust me, we're doing fine (or whatever, we're doing the best we can).