I've gotten so much wrong for so long, my progress in words and a few color photos might seem miniscule to you. Or, maybe you're of the baby-steps-can-be-significant-progress camp and this post will provide some encouragement.
It started on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Mexicanjumpingbain and butterbain made a fort in the living room out of every usable pillow, forgotten blanket and over sized couch cushion they could find. They became real engineers, carefully building for hours. There was no way I could be the party crasher and demand it's demolition after only a day.
For the first 2 days it consumed them and several cousins as well. Every single conversation centered around making it more stable, more functional, more comfortable. after all, what good is a fort if you can't sleep in it? I even crawled in and enjoyed a few moments of relaxation.
The only thing is, after 4 more days it was no longer their daytime priority, but they still wanted to camp out in it at night. My living room looked more like this:
One of the mothering errors I've done way too much of is demand (often in a not too kind voice) that their stuff MUST be picked up before bedtime. Which means that I've put a time limit on their particular kind of fun, just because it's messy and inconvenient to me.
Here's where I hope you'll recognize progress: my likes- things-neat-and-tidy bone began to twitch. I gave myself two choices: twitch and use that unkind and demanding voice to get this fort put away! or find some goggles to ignore something that was only a problem to me.
The fort may have diminished in my sight as the week progressed, but to them it never lost an ounce of cool.
I'd like to think that I didn't either when I said yes to the mess for two more days.
What do you call Mothering progress?