roasted tomato + garlic compote

I think it’s so unfair that the most important job in the world also happens to be the hardest one. Parenting isn’t always easy. Sometimes it is. But not always. I often find myself wondering if I’m doing it right and I’m constantly questioning my decisions. Did I give in too easily? Was that too harsh? Did my message get across?

Somehow, I ended up with two of the sweetest children in the world. But still. Sometimes I wish there were instructions. “ How to deal with a willful child who can argue her point for hours on end….page 10.”

I would buy that book.

But I know there will come a day when these characteristics will serve her well. When she’s crusading for what she believes in. When she’s fighting for her dream job. When she’s trying to decide whether to jump into college or travel through Europe. Her determined approach, her argumentative manner, her intense need to campaign over every little thing. These are the very things I love about her and yet, they can also come into play at the very worst possible moments - notably, when we’re in the throws of what to wear to school or what’s acceptable breakfast fare. 

Naively, I thought that once we were out of the baby stage, the I’m not eating peas stage, the I can’t leave the house because my baby needs to nap stage, that I would have this parenting thing down pat. I really thought that the hardest stretch of road was behind me. That dealing with sleep deprivation and toddler tantrums had prepared me to mother these children for the rest of my life.

I was wrong.

I’ve learned that every age and stage comes with its own set of amazing little moments, but also with a lot of guesswork. I wish I knew exactly how to handle every little thing thrown my way but most of the time; I’m left just winging it. Hoping I haven’t said something that will scar them forever. That I’ve explained things in an age-appropriate manner. That they really get that I love them more than anything and every single thing I do is actually (hi mom!) for their own good.

Frankly, there is just no easy answer to:

Can someone die from the flu? 

Well, yes they can.

Am I going to die from the flu?

 No. not you. You are young and healthy and you'd be able to fight it.

But if " people die from from the flu", how can you be sure it won’t happen to me?

Well. Because I just know it won’t.

But how? How do you know???

(conversation continues for another ten whole minutes.)

And just the other day, I found myself in the midst of a small “numbers game” with my 5-year-old son.

Mom, can you help me count to infinity? 

 Well, that would take forever because infinity never ends.

Mom. Please help me. I know I can get to infinity.

We count. And count. And finally get to number 342. Three hundred and forty-two. And let me just say, counting to 342 with a 5 year old is like counting to a million in adult context. 

My mom can’t count to infinity, it’s too high a number for her.

That’s what he told his little friend at school the next day. See, these are the moments I can laugh at. I cherish them. I write them down so I don’t forget how sweet and clever they once were. What innocent and absolutely amazing little babies they were. How they put a smile on my face and made me chuckle out loud and made me thank God that they were mine. These are the light-hearted moments – the ones I wish were never-ending. The ones I wish would truly go on for infinity. And I know there will come a day when I will yearn for those sticky fingers and chocolate-milk moustaches. For those early morning disputes over what to wear to school and what to eat for lunch. Because in the grand scheme, these tiny little things don’t seem so grand after all do they? But when you’re in the midst of them, dead in the middle, they can seem unbearable. They can make you question whether or not you're handling the situation appropriately, whether or not you actually know what you're doing at all. 

In the end though, I think we just have to trust our instincts and not beat ourselves up if we make a mistake. I repeatedly tell my children that they aren't perfect. That I don't expect them to be. That they are allowed to make mistakes. Doesn't the same apply to us? 

So at the end of a long week, invite your very best friends in the world over for dinner. Feed them homemade pizza, apple tarts and lots of wine. And start things off with this roasted tomato and garlic compote. I served it with crusty bread, goat cheese and dried fruit and nuts. It's a pretty great ending to a crazy week. And there's nothing like really great friends to share your parenting woes, nod in agreement, pat you on the back... and tell you you're doing a great job. 

 

Leftover compote with capers and baked feta. Holy Moly! So good!

Comments

[Tania]

Perfectly said!