"It's a learning experience"

Since being reported to and exonerated by child protection services, I have been plagued with self-doubt, especially about my parenting. Although I have faith that I am basically a good parent and that my kids are doing well, I wonder. Is my attitude of "let them learn" and benign supervision and relaxed risk management putting my kids unnecessarily in danger's path? I don't want to believe that it is. I know that a part of my laissez-faire style comes not just from my temperament but from my historical low self-esteem. I do not want my children to come to harm because I cannot induce myself to enforce a limit with them.

That said, after another questionable experience, another neighbour lovingly shared the words of wisdom forming today's title. Parenting is a learning experience. We haven't done it before. Until we ARE doing it, it's just about impossible to learn HOW to do it. Our kids are going to have varying temperaments, which may be a good or a poor fit for our own. Their interests may diverge wildly from ours, as may their energy levels. Life's circumstances may challenge the resources we have available at the time we are parenting. sometimes we will get it stunningly wrong, in spite of our best intentions, and we may need to draw on reserves of resilience, yet again. Sometimes, we will get it astoundingly right, and we will all flourish as a result. An attitudeof loving acceptance and gentle guidance towards ourselves and others as parents sounds so right to me. I wish I'd thought of it sooner. (Maybe I had, and lost the concept through widow brain...)

So, I'm trying to parent myself, as gently and lovingly and wisely and purposefully as I aspire to parent my children. I'll succeed at this for the most part, "this I know for sure".

It wasn't me- I swear I didn't do it!

Rob and I have a date night every Friday night. One of us picks up the babysitter, we leave her with my kids and we go out. We generally go out for supper, then since we still have 2 houses, we usually end up at Rob's house, enjoying adult time at home. It's pretty blissful.

But...

I live in a housing co-op. Our townhouses face inwards, providing (I thought), a safe place for the neighbourhood kids to play out in front of my house. Our community is fairly small, and we live very close together, and there are few secrets here. Although the sense of community has been very valuable to me, there are times when I feel cloistered. My neighbours, especially my next-door neighbour, loved Willis. They were shattered when he died, and they were somehow disappointed when I began loving Rob. My plans to move from the co-op and purchase a house with Rob have been met with dismay: “Why on earth would you ever want to leave here?” (This said in front of Rob).

I haven’t felt much like hanging out with the gang of “harpies” in the front of my house these last few months. My life is my life, and I am choosing to live it, rather than curl up and die myself. I have found a new love, and look forward to owning a home with him. Disapproval of these choices is not something I choose to revel in, so I have been hanging out inside, with the door open, listening while the children play and cavort in the front. Apparently, this has been causing me to be in disfavour with the “harpies”…

On a recent Friday, when I went to pick up the sitter, she wasn’t there. We were a little early, so I took the kids home and started making supper for them. The sitter soon called, wanting a ride. The kids were pretty involved in playing, and the sitter lives not far away, so I checked with a neighbour, who said she was okay with overseeing my children while I went out for the 10 minute round trip.

While I was gone, another neighbour came upon my children, apparently alone and unsupervised, and freaked out. When I got back, she stormed into my house and proceeded to lambast me. It was an impressive tirade- according to her, she has been covering for me with child protection, the police, other neighbours; I never supervise my children outside, so someone else always has to. She was very angry, and threatened to call child protection services. After about 10 minutes of ranting, she left.

I disappeared from the co-op most of the next day- it really didn’t feel like a safe place to be. When I got back, there stuck in my door was a card from the social worker. The phone calls and visits have proceeded without further incident, and I suspect the file is just about ready to be closed.

I’ve been pretty stressed, but I’ve refrained from unleashing my own vitriol. At least on the outside…..

A day or two after “the incident”, the abusive neighbour ended up in the hospital, with an undetermined abdominal disorder- appendicitis and polycystic ovaries were both possibilities. I swear, I didn’t make a voodoo doll….