I was given the opportunity to try this baby monitor. http://www.amazon.com/Snug-Baby-Monitor-Camera-Samsung/dp/B00XJI2G2K?ie=UTF8&ref_=cm_rdp_product This is a really fantastic baby monitor. I have one a bit similar to it but I needed another camera for a different area of the house where my daughter likes to play. This camera is like my eye in the sky. It was easy to connect through the wifi and even easier to use. It has the ability to be controlled through my phone so I can pan as I need to. My daughter is four years old now and still gets into some mischief. She also needs her space. With this camera I am able to keep able to make sure she is playing safely without her knowing the mom is spying on her. Also, this has sound and my daughter plays so adorably when she's by herself so that's a blast to watch. I received this product free in exchange for my honest review. #Amazonreview
Wednesday, May 4, 2016
Sometimes you have to let them fall to make them stronger.
I learned a very important lesson from my daughter last night. I don't believe she even realized she was teaching me.
I am a very paranoid parent. When my daughter was a baby, and Daddy would toss her up and catch her, I was in the corner having a panic attack. When Lilliana was learning to walk I made a ring around her with my arms in case she fell, I would be there to catch her. I held my daughter back from climbing on furniture, running, and even playing on tall sections at the playground. Paranoid doesn't even begin to describe it.
Through the years I have eased up slightly. I've given Lilli a bit of room. But, until last night I didn't realize how much I was still smothering her.
Grandma bought Lilliana a bike for her 4th Birthday last month. We've had it in the basement where I work so she can practice. Up until yesterday she would just scoot along with her feet because the pedals were too difficult. Yesterday morning she woke up and hopped on the bike. Immediately, as if she had been doing it for years, she began to pedal. She was even able to make turns like a pro.
Fast forward to evening. My husband arrived home from work and immediately wanted to take her to the street to ride. I'm of course instantly uneasy because, although she has a helmet, she doesn't have elbow or knee pads yet. She was riding along pretty good. Daddy was standing behind her and I was in the front backing up as she came forward.
At one point, she picked up some speed. Enough that I was having trouble running backwards away from her. Then the inevitable happened as she started to topple over. I had been paying attention to my own footing when it happened and I wasn't able to catch her in time. My sweet daughter took a spill and instant guilt kicked in for me.
I scooped her up in my arms and started rushing her back to the house letting her know we'd get her cleaned up. Suddenly she spotted her daddy ahead of her carrying the bike. She started to scream even louder. I asked her what was wrong. Her answer stunned me: "I want to get back on my bike!" I stopped dead in my tracks. My heart filled with nothing but pride at that moment. My daughter who had a cut hand and elbow didn't want to stop to get a band-aid (which she loves.) Instead, she wanted to get right back on that bike. I, of course, was happy to oblige as we let her ride some more.
This little chain of events led me to realize that I need to let her live. I need to let her grow up. She needs to fall down, so she can get back up. She needs to have successes as well as failures. Lilli needs to be Lilli: a girl full of wonder, curiosity, and unending kindness.
I am a very paranoid parent. When my daughter was a baby, and Daddy would toss her up and catch her, I was in the corner having a panic attack. When Lilliana was learning to walk I made a ring around her with my arms in case she fell, I would be there to catch her. I held my daughter back from climbing on furniture, running, and even playing on tall sections at the playground. Paranoid doesn't even begin to describe it.
Through the years I have eased up slightly. I've given Lilli a bit of room. But, until last night I didn't realize how much I was still smothering her.
Grandma bought Lilliana a bike for her 4th Birthday last month. We've had it in the basement where I work so she can practice. Up until yesterday she would just scoot along with her feet because the pedals were too difficult. Yesterday morning she woke up and hopped on the bike. Immediately, as if she had been doing it for years, she began to pedal. She was even able to make turns like a pro.
Fast forward to evening. My husband arrived home from work and immediately wanted to take her to the street to ride. I'm of course instantly uneasy because, although she has a helmet, she doesn't have elbow or knee pads yet. She was riding along pretty good. Daddy was standing behind her and I was in the front backing up as she came forward.
At one point, she picked up some speed. Enough that I was having trouble running backwards away from her. Then the inevitable happened as she started to topple over. I had been paying attention to my own footing when it happened and I wasn't able to catch her in time. My sweet daughter took a spill and instant guilt kicked in for me.
I scooped her up in my arms and started rushing her back to the house letting her know we'd get her cleaned up. Suddenly she spotted her daddy ahead of her carrying the bike. She started to scream even louder. I asked her what was wrong. Her answer stunned me: "I want to get back on my bike!" I stopped dead in my tracks. My heart filled with nothing but pride at that moment. My daughter who had a cut hand and elbow didn't want to stop to get a band-aid (which she loves.) Instead, she wanted to get right back on that bike. I, of course, was happy to oblige as we let her ride some more.
This little chain of events led me to realize that I need to let her live. I need to let her grow up. She needs to fall down, so she can get back up. She needs to have successes as well as failures. Lilli needs to be Lilli: a girl full of wonder, curiosity, and unending kindness.
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