Pants-Free Parenting: Learning about yourself through your children

Two weeks ago, while I watched my 4-year-old at dance class, I asked my 2-year-old if he wanted to dance. 'Do you want dance lessons, buddy?”

He glared at me. 'No, no way. I wanna be a football guy.”

Part of me was crushed. For the past year, I've begun harboring fantasies of having my son in dance class. I realize parents are not supposed to live vicariously through their children, but sometimes we get bored. Sometimes our kids won't let us listen to NPR in the car. Sometimes we have to listen to the 'Beauty and the Beast” soundtrack 5 million times and we zone out. That's when I imagined my son starring on Broadway, his fancy foot stylings and toothy little grin bringing in the Tony Awards.

It's a ridiculous dream that was partially born out of my desire to force my brother-in-laws to see a musical. They'd have to if their nephew was on Broadway, right? And I can think of no better reason to pay for years and years of intensive dance training than revenge on ones in laws. Plus, as someone who fancies herself progressive, I loved the idea of my son as a dancer. I'm not saying I was right, just that this is where I was.

My son, as it turns out, has other plans for his life. This seems to happen a lot in my home. I frequently tell the story of fighting for two years to dress my daughter in neutral colors and keep her away from the princess industry, only to have her one day, dress herself in my scarves and crown herself, 'Pwincess Ellis!” My children have always excelled at thwarting any plans or preconceived notions of who they are and who they ought to be.

Yet, while my children often thwart my most basic efforts at molding them. They also gratify needs in me I didn't even know I had.

It's a truth worth repeating, you should never have children to satisfy your own wishes and desires. And yet, there is something about children that does seem gratifying and not because of sacrifice or love. It is gratifying to have children because sometimes, they gratify needs in us the parent. The poet Adrienne Rich wrote, 'My children cause me the most exquisite suffering of which I have any experience. It is the suffering of ambivalence: the murderous alternation between bitter resentment and raw-edged nerves and blissful gratification.”

My daughter is anxious and her anxiety has become more apparent as she grows older. I too suffer with anxiety and I have long traced the root of my anxiety - panic attacks and nail biting - to outside causes. There has always been part of me that has assumed that if I had grown up differently, with less stress, with less chaos, I might not be a nail-biter. I might not need Zoloft. But watching her and learning to help her cope has been a relief, because seeing anxiety in her has made me realize that maybe this is just part of who I am - that there is no alternate universe where I don't freak out about things. That freaking out is just woven into me. Accepting my daughter has meant accepting myself.

I've also experienced this gratification watching the relationship between my son and my daughter. I love how they take care of one another. How sweet they are and also, how wickedly conniving they are. I often feel like it's watching my brother and I grow up together all over again. It's a beautiful gift that I didn't even know I needed.

Maybe that's what I am trying to say about my children: They are the most beautiful, infuriating gift I never knew I needed.

l Lyz Lenz is a writer, mother of two and hater of pants. Email her at eclenz@gmail.com or find her writing at LyzLenz.com.