Homemade Playdough and Some Thoughts on Parenting
The little guy and I made playdough yesterday. The recipe is simple, cheap, and all natural. We had a blast making the concoction and then experimenting with shapes and textures on the finished product. One of the things I love most about being a mom is being able to play with Weston at his level. I am not trying to have him achieve goals that are years away developmentally, I am not drilling him on numbers and the ABCs, and I am not forcing him to play within strict lines or rules. Yesterday afternoon, I was simply pounding, rolling, and smelling playdough with my son and having a wonderful time doing so.
I have been lucky in my motherhood journey to have limited exposure to the Momosauruses. Are you familiar with these creatures? This classification is reserved for the women who continuously brag about their children and do so in a way that puts down children who are not their own. In other words? They’re sort of sad and pathetic. And not too fun to be around. But as I said, I have only encountered one or two so far, which I consider a very good thing. I tried making a Momosaurus with playdough but it came out looking like a cross between a tortoise and a snake. Oh well.
The type of mother I want to be is one who laughs, runs, skips, dances, and cheers with her children. Clay and I didn’t have a child 5 years into our marriage because we thought we were supposed to, we had one because children can be quite fun! Sure, it can be trying at times but the rewards far outweigh the occasional drawbacks. You know, I recently deleted a handful of ‘mommy blogs’ (ugh, I hate that term) from my Reader because it seemed like all the writers did was bemoan about being a parent to little snot-nosed brats. I found myself thinking, “Then why the hell did you have so many children???” every time they posted (yes, I thought it with three question marks, in case you were wondering).
I am not a parenting expert by any means. I only have one child and he is only 22 months old. We have no plans to add to our family anytime soon so take whatever you’re reading here with a grain of salt. I believe with all of my heart that children are a gift. Weston is his own person and deserves to be treated as such. I am sure some women look down on me because my almost-two-year-old doesn’t have much of a vocabulary. That’s okay. His timeline for talking is not a reflection on my mothering ability; after all, he is his own person. He isn’t writing symphonies and he hasn’t mastered long division yet. His idea of high society is ketchup and flushing toilet paper is still a huge thrill for him. But he laughs with his whole body, gives huge hugs, and will chase you around the house until you fall from exhaustion. And most importantly, he knows love.
But then again, he eats playdough, so what do I know?
Eh. I think we’re okay.