Choosing my battles

When I was younger my mum would constantly tell me to “pick my battles” and I had no idea what she was talking about until I hit adulthood. I realized she was talking about me and my sister fighting and that she wanted me to give in because my sister is more hellish to deal with whenever we fought (not much different now but I still don’t back down from her). Now that I’m a mum of a toddler I am hearing those words playing in my head on repeat.

There are things I don’t let my little one get away that others have told me I should give a rest every now and again. Like, telling her to get off the table. However, I’m going to keep on her about climbing onto the table and various other high objects because so far she has demonstrated that my clumsy gene is stronger than her daddy’s graceful gene.

The battles I have chosen not to fight consistently are usually not dangerous for her to be doing, just really messy. Like when she decides she wants to take all of her clothes out of the drawers and throw them on the ground. Or when she goes into the desk and throws all the papers on the floor-which she’ll do whenever I’m cooking.

If those of you are wondering what having a toddler, not a baby, is like, a lot of it is making sure the toddler doesn’t bang themselves up too bad and cleaning up after them. I am actually pretty confident in that because of my own toddler. Then again, that could just be my toddler. My toddler is the Tasmanian Devil honestly.

What’s funny is that in choosing my battles with my toddler, which are usually the least exhausting ones, I’ve actually been better about picking my battles with other people and with life in general. Like is it worth it to argue my point across with some people who are being ignorant? My pride has definitely been put in check more than once because of this life lesson. At least I think so.

Thanks for reading! Peace!

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