IT occurred to me recently that I might not have been a great mother.
I am not a mother, and probably won't be now due to age and a few other variables.
However, like many people who aren't parents, I thought motherhood looked easy. I have watched enough of the British Supernanny shows to get the gist of how to be an effective parent: consistency, kindness and some crafts. Throw in some healthy meals and you're pretty much guaranteed perfect kids.
Despite my anecdotal "research" over the years, I recently realized my assumption that I would have been a perfect mother might have been flawed.
I realize now I failed to consider one important element of motherhood: heartache.
Almost three years ago, two amazing little creatures came into this world, and so began my journey as an aunt for the first time. Although they are twins, these two sisters are different in so many ways, both in personality and appearance. And yet, somehow they are both so much like their mother with traits of their father.
I was prepared for their arrival: I was prepared to play with them, to take them for walks, and to buy educational books and cute baby clothes for them. And I've done all that.
What I wasn't prepared for was how my heart ached when two big eyes looked up at me and a tiny voice implored, "Elmo?"
I tried to type "Elmo" so fast into the iPad keyboard it came out as "Emlo" and "Elom" while this little girl waited patiently for me to find another Elmo video. I couldn't find it fast enough.
My heart ached during a family barbecue when one of the twins collapsed in tears after her mother said she had to eat some dinner before she could have more blueberries.
Suddenly I felt like Shirley MacLaine in the movie Terms of Endearment screaming at the nurses, demanding her daughter's pain medication.
In my case it was dessert: "Give her the blueberries! Give her the blueberries!"
My only attempt to "discipline" one of the twins has left me scarred for life.
I rewarded the "good" twin by letting her hold my iPod after her sister refused to get her coat on for an outing. I made a point of saying loudly so the other one could hear: "You can hold my iPod because you got dressed so well."
I think it's called positive reinforcement, but I have only had negative feelings about it since that day. My chest literally aches when I think about the look on the other twin's face when she didn't get to hold the iPod. Her sad silence spoke volumes. It was figuratively screaming: "Why are you being so mean to me?"
Not long ago, I was ready to unilaterally withdraw both girls from their daycare when I heard one of them had been pushed off a bench and scraped her nose, leaving a mark.
What kind of aggressive, feral monsters are my nieces being subjected to at this daycare, I wondered aloud. I imagined the daycare toy box full of evil Chucky dolls, and was sure the perpetrator was a kid named Damien (Google The Omen movie from 1976).
My growing rage had to be contained when their mom informed me it was her twin sister who had pushed her off the bench.
I did not expect to feel this way about these two little people who, despite their tiny stature, have a firm grip on my heartstrings, but I know now it is a side effect of loving a child.
Since having the honour of becoming an aunt, there are a few other things I have come to know.
I know that if the girls ask me for more ice cream I will give it to them because I can't lie to such trusting little faces and say "there's none left," when I know there is a box in the freezer and plenty more at the supermarket just a short drive away.
I know that in the future I am ready to quit my job and start home schooling the minute I hear they are unhappy in kindergarten. I know that if they want to stay up late I will let them because they asked so nicely, and I know that I will frantically search for Elmo and Abby and Toopy and Binoo all night long on You Tube if that's what they want to watch.
And I know that this is not a healthy way to parent a child.
When it comes to kids, it's not easy to navigate life's uncertainties and set boundaries.
You have to say "no" when your toddler wants too much ice cream or blueberries. You have to limit their screen time even if they don't understand why. You have to react in a rational manner when they scrape their knee or scratch their nose. You can't panic every time they have a fever, an earache or a rash.
To be a mom, it's not enough to know the proper procedure for a timeout, how to make a banana pancake or where the best schools are.
You have to have a kind and incredibly strong heart. Luckily my sister is the kindest, strongest person I know. She is a great mom, and I know that for sure (I've done the research).
