Lessons from Nikhil

Sure, I've learnt things through Nikhil before - how to change a nappy, hold a baby, exercise self-restraint. But now that We Are Two, the lessons he's teaching me are less physical. Harder to learn - requiring much more introspection.
When we're in the midst of a heated battle of wills, it's a shocking, humbling experience to realise that I can be wrong and my 2 year old can be right.

I suppose I had assumed that I was the authority on life, having 28 years more experience than him, and that this allowed me to dole out instructions to everything, from what to eat, to where to stand. This week Nikhil taught me that he is a person in his own right, with feelings and opinions, and that he can make his own decisions about what to touch and what toys he wants to play with, for example.

The other morning, I was rushing around trying to get him ready for his very first day at School. He was not co-operating, being unaccustomed to waking up at the ungodly hour of 6am, and I was feeling rushed and emotional, sending my little boy off to school. I packed his mid-morning snack box and put it in the lounge while I prepared my own breakfast and lunch, mentally registering that I had to leave the house in 6 minutes, and I still hadn't eaten, done my hair and makeup, or packed Nikhil's spare change of clothes and on-the-go breakfast.

At which point I looked up and discovered that Nikhil had eaten his mid-morning snack. "NO!" I shouted. "Don't eat that now! That's for school! You must eat your breakfast now. Now I have to re-pack your snack!" He walked over to me, stood up straight, looked me in the eye and said "No! Don't talk to me hard!" I had to suppress a smile, but I managed to correct his language with a straight face, and now his response to every rebuke is "Don't shout at me mommy!"

The next night, I had battled through two and a half hours of traffic with both Nikhil and Ariane in the car, screaming in hypoglycemic, over-tired frustration all the way home. It was all I could do to stop myself from losing control and screaming too. At home, my phone rang and Nikhil immediately grabbed it. In my agitated state, I grabbed his hand and said "Leave it!". Sometimes it would be nice to just do one thing, like answer your phone, without having to fight your toddler. But, a battle did ensue, ending with the phone falling to the ground, the battery coming out, and me losing the call. That was the proverbial last straw, and I burst out, "Do you see why I don't want you to touch my phone? Now it's broken!"

The emotional outrage that issued from him caught me off-guard. It's hard to describe in words. It was like a 16-year-old had entered his little body, and with precocious maturity and adult facial expressions, he said "Don't SHOUT at me! DON'T shout at me!" In that moment, he was not a two-year-old throwing a tantrum in front of a mother who was shaking her head. He was a person asserting his right to be spoken to respectfully and with dignity, in front of an errant and ignorant first-time mom. It was not him imitating someone else - those expressions were all his own - he had an intrinsic idea of who he is, what he wants to do, and how he should be treated. I gaped, astounded, and quietly said, "I'm sorry."

Later that night we lay in bed, playing out our nightly ritual - I lie next to him and hold him, and he holds his teddy in the crook of one arm, bottle of milk in the other hand, and the teddy-side hand playing with my "boobs" (his word). In the soothing quietness, I looked at his big eyes and impossibly long eyelashes and was overcome with tenderness for this beautiful child. I resolved to be more patient with him and try to control my temper more effectively.

"I'm not going to fight with you anymore," I said, more to confirm it for myself than for him. "I don't like it when we fight, and I'm not going to shout at you anymore." He blinked, sucked on his bottle, and carried on looking straight up at the ceiling. I thought he just didn't understand what I meant, but I felt better for saying it anyway. Then he said, "And I'm not going to cry at you anymore mommy." For a second time that night, I was gobsmacked. I'd just made a truce with my baby! That feeling is indescribable. And I hadn't expected to feel it for the next 3 years at least.

I'm learning that everything about being a parent is bittersweet. I'm so glad that Nikhil can stand up and demand respect for himself, but I'm so sad for all the times I've treated him like an object without a will of his own. I'm sorry for all the times I've lost my temper, and all the times I will lose it in the future. I'm glad he taught me a lesson, but I'm sad I didn't know it in the first place. I'm sorry for all the other mistakes I will make over his lifetime, but most of all I'm glad that he's going to be okay, no matter how many mistakes I make and what situations he finds himself in.