(page 48) FEBRUARY 2014
LITTLE PARENT ON THE PRAIRIE by Tracy Kirby
At times, we think and act as if our children should behave supremely, and if and when they don’t, we feel as if we are blowing it big time as parents.
bio: Tracy Kirby’s roots and heart are in the Hawaiian Islands, but destiny has led her to the prairie. She is a wandering traveler, a wife to a dashing Sioux Falls native, a mother to a 2-year-old daughter and 145-pound bear puppy, a freelance writer, and a lover of souls.
THE PERFECT SOLUTION I want to meet the most perfect child in existence. The child who came out of the womb sleeping and eating famously. The child who never, ever fussed. The child who spoke early, walked early, potty-trained in a day with no accidents. The child who began speaking as if he/ she was a fancy-mannered Downton Abbey character with one part intelligent banter and two parts humble, witty humor. The child who will undoubtedly grow up to be a model student, employee of the year and an overall delightful citizen. The perfect child. I really want to meet that kid. Or, more importantly, I want to meet the
Illustration by Liz Long.
parents of this kid and get in their heads and take a stroll around whilst stealing their secrets on how they raised a flawless human. And since I’m already stealing stuff while I’m there, maybe I’ll just steal their identity and pretend I was the perfect parent all along … But, alas, I will never meet said perfect child. Nor will I ever meet his/her parents. Because--newsflash--they don’t exist. I got a lesson in this just a couple of weeks ago. You might have noticed a few pages back that the lovely folks here at 605 Magazine came to our house to photograph and talk to us about our
home. On the particular day they were scheduled to come over, I wanted the house to be “perfect,” so I did what any self-respecting mom would do: I hid dirty laundry in the closet. I stuffed toys in cabinets to be found again on a rainy day. I cleaned food smears off of the window. I organized. Heck, I even showered. But the one thing I forgot to prepare for was a toddler behavioral meltdown. You see, my daughter chose this day to display the “Terrible Twos” in the flesh. She refused to talk to anyone, heaved herself onto the floor, threw food across the room, refused to smile