What kind of parent am I?

If I had a nickle for the number of times I have been asked what kind of parent I am, well I'd have a lot of nickles....

My answer as of late has simply been this, "um the best I know how to be." I'm not really sure why it is that we (especially as mom's) feel the need to be defined by a "parenting type". When P was born I was 21 years old and everyone, I mean EVERYONE felt the need to tell me exactly how to parent him so I wouldn't screw him up. What I am sad to report is that I was so completely concerned with what others thought that I followed their instructions blindly. I went into labor without knowing any of my rights, or understanding what it meant to give birth to a child. I smiled and nodded when my asshole doctor told me that apparently being in active labor for 8 hours was detrimental to my child and there was no choice but to push lots of drugs and have a c-section. I sat outside the door of my 3 month old sons room while he screamed to be held and comforted and I bawled. Not one of those little oh a tear has fallen but a full on ugly cry, with heaving sobs. All because I was told that I would be spoiling him if I went in and that would surely turn him into a needy brat. I let others tell me when he should have solids, when I should quit breastfeeding him, when he should be spanked, actually I can't think of any decisions I really made for myself. After all, I wanted to be a "good mom".

When we decided to start trying for baby #2 I prayed long and hard. I decided to start reading, I mean my whole life I had been known for being "book smart" and yet when it came to my child I didn't think twice about looking into the choices I was making for him. One day I had this fabulous moment of clarity. One that in the movies everything around you freezes and turns into shades of black and gray so that only the important things stand out. It happened while P was fast asleep, the moment I realized that I wasn't being the parent I wanted to be regardless of if it looked right to everyone else. I walked into his room, scooped him up in my arms and promised him that I would be the mom to him that I knew how to be. I told him that it would be far from perfect but I would love him with every ounce of me and we would figure it out together. And then I cried which woke him up and nap time was shot for the day, talk about a great first step right!

Now, that I look back over the last four years I can say that my parenting "style" is drastically different then it once was. I am now a cloth diapering, baby wearing, co-sleeping, hugging, holding, parent. When my boys act out we talk about why they feel the way they do and how it affects those around them. We take twice as long to go through a grocery store so we can see and smell and talk about things. I still get frustrated but I don't spank them simply because that is what I am "supposed" to do. Don't get me wrong I believe without a doubt that my children should grow up to be respectful and polite and anyone who knows me can say that I have refused to give my boys something if they cannot ask the right way. But we talk about things, we hug, and sometimes we yell at the top of our lungs (in a "I'm overwhelmed and just need to yell"). I'm sure when my children are grown they will indeed be messed up because of something I did along the way. But at least now I can say that I'm truly giving them the best I have. Some days that means they see me break down, but I want them to know I'm human.

And in the midst of it all I have opened myself up to criticism. Which is a hard pill to swallow some days. But as we prepare to welcome baby #3 into the world I feel like I'm stronger in who I am; as a woman, a wife, and as a parent. Even in my colossal failures I know that I'm giving it all I've got, and that I don't have to have a parenting type to be a good mom.

Happy Tuesday :)