In My Daughter's Eyes

Yes, it has been a long time. I had told myself at one point that I would try to keep my complaining in the blog to a minimum and write mostly about good things, and as a result, I found myself finding very little to write about. I had wanted to write about more positive things, rather than using this as merely an outlet for my anger and frustration. I figured if I write about the positive things, then overall, I would focus on the positive things, and focus less on the things that frustrate me. That said, I hadn't been focusing on the good things, which is why I haven't written in a long time. Specifically, work has gotten to me. I find being an anesthesia resident to be a consuming, exhausting, thankless, degrading job. The details of how I am going to deal with this have yet to be determined. For now, I have resigned myself to focus on the good things in my life, particularly my family. So now things are better . . . because I am resolving to see things that way. And so begins a lengthy post . . .

In my daughter's eyes, I am a hero.
I am strong and wise, and I know no fear.
But the truth is plain to see:
She was sent to rescue me.
I see who I want to be
In my daughter's eyes.

About one and a half years ago, I was watching Oprah (don't laugh), and Martina McBride (yes, the country singer, and yes, you can laugh) sang her song, "In My Daughter's Eyes." My daughter was about 1 year old, and was sitting with me. As I listened to the lyrics, my eyes welled up, and tears starting rolling down my cheeks. My daughter looked up at me with her beautiful brown eyes, bottom lip curled down, and said, "Oh Mommy," and proceeded to wipe the tears from my face. Then the tears really started to pour. This is one image that will flash before my eyes every time I look back on my daughter's childhood -maybe the night of her first date, on prom night, her wedding day, the birth of her child.

My children are celebrating their birthdays these next few weeks. My son started 1st Grade today. As they are getting older, I am seeing how different each phase of parenting is. The late night feedings, the breastfeeding, the sleepless nights, the dirty diapers were all challenging. Then there was the picky eating, and the temper tantrums, and playing nicely with other children. Now that they are leaving the baby stage, I am seeing how difficult it is to be a decent role model. I am more cognizant of how my behavior affects theirs. If I yell, they yell. If I whine, they whine. If I don't listen, they don't listen. And it becomes a vicious circle. It truly is as simple as that. And yet so difficult. Everything I do or say is being watched and often imitated by my kids. Some of it good, some of it not so good. So I am trying with all my might (I may be small, but I am mighty) to make everything I do and say be something that I wouldn't mind my son or daughter doing or saying. In doing so, I find myself going through a metamorphosis, becoming a better person. Being rescued by my children.