A Valuable Addition to Our Bedtime Routine

Snowmageddon has descended upon the Seattle area, which is both a beautiful thing (hooray, snow!) and a stifling thing. Those battling their own wintry woes elsewhere in the country may not be aware just how crippled the Northwest becomes at the lightest dusting. There is a strong stereotype that Seattleites don't know how to drive in the ice and snow- one that almost every Seattleite is quick to complain about, as if the problem is everyone except them. However, I freely admit to being the problem. I am the quintessential hopeless and hapless Seattle driver. The fact that I turned a thankfully slow motion 360 through a thankfully empty intersection this morning seems to confirm this.

A family of hand knit hats!

Much as I adore the snow, it is in fact attempting to kill me. The treacherous road poses the additional challenge of cabin fever, which sets in surprisingly quickly. I am used to a steady stream of at least one activity away from home per day, as is my very active and interactive little toddler. By the end of the day on Monday (which was only our first full snow day), I was feeling trapped and unproductive. My plans of a multi-family play date and errand-running were cancelled, and I am pretty sure that every toy we own was scattered on the kitchen floor. I was exhausted, frustrated and ready for the day to end.

As I tucked my daughter into her cozy sleep sack and cuddled up with her to say goodnight, I stumbled upon a little ritual which has become a new addition to our bedtime routine. I was grumpy and had nothing to say to her, so I began to recount to her what she had done that day. As I described her various activities, I began to see my day in an entirely new way. Sure, we had missed out on seeing friends- but we did get to play in the snow with the dogs for the first time! All the bags I had planned to take to Goodwill were still (and are still!) crowding the hallway, but I did get to catch up with a good friend over the phone. Her coverall bib had failed to save her previously bathed body from an adventurous dinner, but then who could resist the giddy squeals of a little naked one year old trying to throw herself into the bathtub? I felt like I had a pretty bad day, but repeating it from her point of view gave me a new perspective. She had a wonderful day! Between the snow, the extra dog we are watching and having doubled her daily bath, the day could not have been better.

Josephine likes to help daddy work from home.

This new practice of retelling and re-framing through her eyes has me thinking more about how my feelings, though quite strong, are not necessarily truthful. My feelings are shaped in part by unrealistic expectations of measurable productivity, and even in part by the dishonest brain chemistry of postpartum depression. In so many ways, my daughter has a more clear and reliable point of view.

On the days when she cries uncontrollably, I often feel like a failure for being unable to make her happy. But just as I appreciate a friend's supportive ear, despite their inability to fix my problems, my little girl must appreciate my presence and acknowledgement of her difficult emotions. Her perspective is immune to Pinterest and Instagram ideals of what good mothering looks like; but she does know what it is like to feel my arms around her or to play peek-a-boo with me across the kitchen table. She doesn't know who I was before her, and she definitely doesn't know who I thought I would be as a mother; she only know me as I am today. If her sweet nuzzling and ecstatic face-grabbing are any indication, she is content to have me as her mom, however I may feel at the end of the day.

My hope is that looks at things through her eyes will help me to navigate through this fog. She really is a great guide.