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I used to have a neurotic need to control the environment around me. To make it perfect and untouchable. Everything put in the right spot, eternal. Then I had my kid. I had to learn that so much stuff doesn't matter. Who cares if she draws on the fridge. The living room is a living room not a museum. Of course there's going to be toys and other signs of life everywhere. The dining table will have scuffs and marks from life on it. Accepting this has been liberating.

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It's good that you learned to accept that because I think a lot of parents don't. They seem perpetually angry at their children for being children.

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I've noticed that, and I have to admit I'm not 100% perfect. My kid is really good, I can take her anywhere but sometimes I forget she's four when she acts up and I have to stop and remind myself that she's four and she's acting like a four year old.

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