And Though She Be But Little....

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Throughout my life, I have been labelled as " good with kids". I knew from a really young age , about 7, that I wanted to be a primary school teacher and before having my own babies, my life revolved around my job.  And being completely honest and not caring about being seen as bragging for a moment - I was a damn good teacher. I really cared about "my" kids and invested a lot of time in getting to know each and every one of them as individual, special people so that I could plan the best lessons for them and ensure that my classroom was a place that they wanted to be in and where they felt valued as learners and as people.

 It was important to me to earn the respect of everyone in my school community and I was often chosen to teach students who has been labelled as "challenging". Challenging for a variety of reasons- some with high learning needs, some with social needs and some with medical issues. I spent time learning about them and their needs and tailored my classroom as much as I could so that I was giving them every chance to be successful. 

My classroom was a place where I felt in control and somehow I came to make the link that because I was good at teaching, that I would be a great parent too. I imagined myself with my darling little children doing  fun activities, in a clean and organised home. My children would be settled and polite and well behaved. We would sit and read books together and my children would listen to me. 

And then I gave birth to Miss Muffet. 

And Shakespeare said it best - "She may be but little, but she is fierce". And my God is she fierce. From Day One Miss Muffet has known exactly what she wants to do and how she is going to do it- regardless of her physical abilities to complete her task or if what she wants to do is actually something that can be accomplished! Her determination is incredible and I often need to remind myself that this is a good thing. I want her to know her own mind and to be a strong, independent person... It's just hard to take in a nearly two year old when she is so frustrated that she can't communicate what she needs or can't complete her set task due to stupid constraints such as gravity. 

Miss Muffet is my greatest teacher. I have had to throw out every preconception I previously had and a lot of the time, I have to follow her lead. I have to step back and allow her to take risks and show me what she needs. Terrifying when this is at the playground and she wants to rock climb up a wall at 20 months, but she did it. All she needed from me was encouragement and to be there to catch her is she fell. I have learnt that I need to trust her. 

I heard somewhere that young kids can only focus on developing one area at a time- eg teething or crawling or talking. Miss Muffet has alway been a fast learner when it came to the physical side of things and was an early walker, climber, dancer, jumper. However, at the moment she is not a communicator. She has about 15 words and prefers to take you by the hand and show you what she wants or needs or is interested in. She clearly understands a lot more than she can verbalise but this gap can be the root of a huge amount of frustration for both her and me. I can see her clearly trying to tell me that she needs something and if I can't work out what that is it can lead to meltdown territory. I am talking full blown throw yourself on the ground, shaking with anger, frustration. And it breaks my heart. I try to talk to her calmly and spend a lot of time reading to her and naming items and narrating what we are doing- I just have to trust that she will talk when she is ready. 

That is all well and good when we are at home and I am calm myself and have had some uninterrupted sleep and some coffee and it is only the first meltdown of the day. The rest of the time.. I am that parent with the child who is shrieking in the cafe. Or clinging with all her strength to the damn car trolley at the end of the of the grocery trip and refusing to let go. I am the parent of the child who is face down, kicking and screaming at GymJam because it is not her turn on the roller coaster car ALL of the time. I am the parent on my hands on knees, trying to hold her and talk to her and help her ride out the frustration of whatever inequity life has thrown at her. 

I see the parents around me whose children are playing quietly and calmly and I wonder what on earth they have given their child to sedate them. I see the smug looks of "glad that's not my child" and I heard it when the man in the grocery store commented that she just needed a damn good slap. And I think back to the times when I could survey my class of 30 children, all doing what I had asked them to do. And how I had naively thought I was good with kids. 

I know it is just a stage and I catch glimpses of the strong, amazing, determined person that Miss Muffet is becoming. I have to make the decision to love the person she is and not get upset about who she is not. Because even through all of the heart wrenching, teeth gritting, frustrating melt downs- she is still my fiercely loveable little love, my greatest teacher and the person who made me a mother.