A valuable life lesson; taking it slow

 

It has been a while, hasn’t it?

I suppose like any writer my creativity comes in waves. For my work, I have to battle through the lack of creativity, but for my blog I just, well, don’t. 

I’ve been potty training our two-year-old, and it has brought up some really interesting life insights. Who knew waiting for a child to say ‘wee wee’ and then hotfooting it across the room carrying said child at haste towards a plastic pot could bring up an existential pondering.

Do you remember being a child?

We didn’t go out every day as children. But, in this cocktail of 21st century living, we have somehow been programmed to think that being out of the house equals a better life.

I suppose I could weave a web that links back to capitalism. Telling parents that they need to go to see Father Christmas (more than once), go to the garden centre, go to soft play and have a plan for every day of the week is ultimately fuelling the economy.

And this pressure isn’t just felt by parents. We are told – via social media, mostly – that we need the newest things. Our house should look a particular way and just when you’ve perfected boho chic, TikTok tells us rattan is so last year. We should dress according to trends, eat at the restaurants with the queues outside, spend £200 on an advent calendar that is essentially filled with travel samples.

It’s strange, because I was at my most calm during lockdown. A time when we were tied to our houses, and yet I’ve fallen back into the trap of thinking that being busy equates to happiness much quicker than I would’ve liked.

So, where does potty training come in?

Everyone has an opinion on potty training, don’t they? And, just like with all other advice from parents that I don’t ask for; I DON’T CARE.

It may come as a surprise to you, but we know our child. So, we knew we needed to stay in the house for a few days without exception. Shockingly, it worked. Funny that!

During those few days I had an epiphany. Life was calmer. Isaac didn’t have one tantrum, I had more energy. It was a revelation.

I’ve spent a lot of parenthood so far making sure I had something fun planned on most days; classes, swimming, soft play, visits to the grandparents. It was constant. But, when I sat down with my cup of coffee and watched Isaac playing with his magnetic blocks for a solid hour I realised that he doesn’t want or need that. At least not every day.

Being a toddler parent comes with its *moments*, and we’re just coming out of a phase (it’s always just a phase) where he had a tantrum over everything, didn’t sleep and got so mortifyingly stressed out when somebody took his toy. Yes, to the point where I wanted the ground to swallow me, him and the toy up just so he would at least stop screaming when we were underground.

Having these elongated moments of peace after what was a month of sheer chaos has been wonderful. And, to discover this during potty training is just the icing on the cake.

If you didn’t have to do anything, what would you do?

As soon as I realised this, I stopped fearing being at home. I thought that if he wasn’t stimulated then he wouldn’t nap, or sleep that night.

But, what I didn’t realise is that stimulation doesn’t have to come in the big moments; the soft play, the swimming, the chaos. It can come in smaller moments, too; like a really fun game of magnetic tiles, kicking the ball around the kitchen and dancing around to Christmas songs.

And I wanted to link this to my own life, my work and my relationships.

My husband and I were having a random conversation the other day and I said to him if I was retired I’d spend all day baking, cooking and gardening.

He said, ‘isn’t it funny that with all of of the entertainment available to us you’ve chosen three things that have been used as pastimes for literally ever?’

A note on overstimulation

And it dawned on me at that point; I’m overstimulated, too. Perhaps we all are.

Overstimulation is a word commonly coined for over-excited toddlers, but we can all stand to take a leaf out of lockdown’s book and stop running around.

In times of busyness, I look to basic human enjoyment – like gardening – to ground me. Why are so many of us drawn to baking, or comforted by watching The Great British Bake Off? Because it represents a calm contentment.

So yes, Isaac and I are going to be staying in a bit more. I’m not going to worry that he’ll find a day indoors boring, or that having no plans represents falling behind everybody else who’s out there queuing up for hours to see a reindeer.

It’s an oddly settling thought.