I’ll be the first one to say, “My daughter is different.” She’s different in the most beautiful way but at times it is really challenging being a mom to a child that doesn’t do everything the “other kids” do. Strike that…she doesn’t do many of the things that the “other kids” do…she’s about a year behind. Deep breath…hard to write, but it’s true. And, my egoic self (that should be a word), along with self doubt, and that heaviness called comparison gets in the way of healthy perspective…it gets in the way of all of the gloriously good things she is doing. It gets in the way of the honor I give her each day for working so darn hard for what she wants. It gets in the way of knowing that she is a brilliant, freaking rock-star.
Comparison can be the death of you…or me, rather. Comparison can be the death of me. But, let’s be honest…we ALL COMPARE. In the best possible ways we compare ourselves to others because it helps put perspective on our growth and our development. Comparison, in a good way, allows us to pat ourselves on the back and honor the trans-formative steps we’ve taken.
“Hot damn…I look good this summer. Tan and thin work well on me.”
“Ha ha. Cleaned all the bathrooms and didn’t want to kill my husband. Yes, Ma’am!!”
“Take that bills…my bank account is FULL.”
See, comparing this way feels good. It’s the other comparing that breaks me.
If I compare when I’m feeling weak, it destroys me. If I compare when I’m low on sleep, it brings me to tears. If I compare to someone her own age, I hurt so much for her…and that ruins me.
I’ll be real…comparison, on most days, makes me feel pretty crappy because I am a “sleep-deprived (too selfish to sleep train), mother of a 2 year old who forgets to eat, doesn’t exercise enough, and tends to entertain more than is humanly healthy”. So, these past 2 years when I compare this breath-taking creature I get to raise to other children from a developmental stand point, I feel like s***.
So…what’s the moral of the story? Where’s the high ground, the ah-ha, the damn-right message? Well, in the end, who the heck cares? Who cares that she is atypical? Really, who wants to be normal anyway? Who cares that she’s taking her own sweet time doing the things she wants to do? Truly, SHE DOES NOT CARE that she isn’t “keeping up with the Jones”. She couldn’t give a rat’s arse (where did that phrase come from) that she’s smaller than the other kids or isn’t talking with them yet. She loves watching them move around. She loves intently listening to their sounds. She’s figured out that in her stillness, they come to her. And, news flash, the other kids aren’t comparing either. They are attracted to her because she is who she is…a-typical and a-mazing.
My brother said something very profound to me 10 months ago. He said, “She hasn’t read any of the child-development books. She doesn’t know what she should or shouldn’t be doing. She’s happy just where she is.” And, like all of the doctors have said, “If she keeps progressing…all is well.”
Guess what…ALL IS PROGRESSING. So, I am telling myself this…get out of your freaking head, mama. Take a deep breath and fill your heart with love and respect and kindness and honor and admiration and joy. Because if you don’t let go of some of this comparison-s*** it will be the death of the gorgeous, other-worldly spirit of your glowing daughter.
And as her mama, I never ever ever ever ever ever ever want to lessen her true nature, or destroy her inner being, or take anything away from that “oh my god she’s amazing” part of her. So, today, I will once again pull up my big girl undies and…
EXPECT GOOD THINGS!!
Yes, ma’am…
