I have an amazing teacher in my house. She’s two years old, adorable, and notices EVERYTHING.

A couple of weeks ago, I took her to the park for a picnic. We spread out the blanket, got out the food, and settled in to enjoy an alfresco dinner. To be honest, I kind of wanted to relax. I might have even laid on the blanket with my eyes closed, for a minute. Sometimes, by which I mean all the time, having a two-year-old is exhausting.

I pulled myself up from a reclined position with these mental commands:

“Get up! You have to! You can’t sleep right now! But imagine how lovely your pillow will feel in just a few short hours! Oh God! Pillow! Pillow!”

Unloading the picnic, I handed Aela a few crackers. She chewed for several seconds while marveling about the texture of the picnic blanket on her bare feet.

“No shoes,” she said, happily. I smiled back. It felt nice to relax together, munching on our picnic fare.

Suddenly, she stood up and took off running.

With what felt like every ounce of my remaining energy, I dashed after her. Plonking her back on the picnic blanket, I reviewed the picnic guidelines.

“No running when you’re eating. We stay on the blanket to eat.”

She stood up, walked to the edge of the blanket, and with careful precision, put one big toe in the grass. She turned and looked at me, eyes full of mischief.

“Nope,” I said, shaking my head. She moved her toe back to the blanket.

“Yep,” I said. She moved her toe back off the blanket.

“Nope,” I said. She moved her toe back to the blanket.

“Yep,” I said. She sat down and ate some blueberries.

With Aela in my life, I am learning, every minute of every day, how to set clear boundaries. In the past, I have been fairly horrible at that. I have worried about others’ feelings, not wanted to disappoint people, been afraid someone might not like me, and a myriad of other things.

In my pre-toddler life, my lack of boundaries would often result in exploding doormat syndrome, difficult communication with others, and lack of self-care.

Now, however, I have a teacher. A really, really, good teacher.

Suddenly, I see that boundaries are not about people’s feelings, what others think of me, or anything like that at all. They are about well-being – both physical and emotional.

Boundaries create a safe space within which we can be ourselves, be free, and feel supported. They create physical safety, but they also create soul safety. I see it every day. When I set a clear boundary, Aela may resist it, be upset about it, and throw a fit. She gets to do that, and I listen to her protests, because I understand. But they don’t change the boundary. Once she’s expressed herself, she settles into the space I’ve created. I can see that we are creating a shared trust in each other through this process. My job is to set boundaries that keep her physically safe, so that she can roam and explore. Her job is to roam and explore and discover this world.

It’s blatantly obvious to me that setting boundaries for her is an act of kindness. The better I get at it, the happier and more content she is. And some of the boundaries I set with her are about my well-being, too. I can’t reach into the backseat and take her shoes off while driving on a busy street, even if that’s what she wants.  Sometimes my soul needs to have structure within which to roam free, too. So I set clear bedtime schedules and routines, and we honor those. My soul feels good when I take care of me. It knows it can trust me to be there for it. So some nights, when Aela is asking for the twenty-third kiss before she can fall asleep, I tell her that I’m tired, I’m heading to bed, too, and that this is the LAST kiss. And then I follow through.

I’m seeing just how vital it is to set loving, compassionate boundaries.

It’s kind to me. It’s kind to others. I don’t suddenly explode at them, because they’ve moved past a boundary I didn’t express. I don’t resent them because I said yes when I meant no. I can trust myself to create a sense of safety in my life. A safe space within which to play, work, rest, and be me. I have to listen and see if whatever has just come up feels right to me, or if it’s just one toe over the line. And even if it’s just one toe over the line, that counts. That’s crossing the boundary. I can express the boundary limit and therefore deepen the sense of trust I have with myself.

It’s one of the biggest acts of self-care I’ve ever undertaken. It’s an enormous learning curve. And I have the best teacher I could ever imagine.

P.S. Want some help learning how to create this level of self-care and boundary-setting? If you don’t have a two-year-old handy, you might want help from a horse. Did I just say horse? Why yes I did! To find out what I’m talking about, take a peek at my upcoming Listening for Truth Workshop  with Koelle Simpson and Jennifer Voss! (Only a couple spots left!)