look out

April 13, 2010 at 7:48 pm 1 comment

My little Echo woke up today on the wrong side of the bed. Like, the most wrong side of the bed possible. She pulled it together long enough to go with her papa to her beloved art class but as soon as it was over whatever good mood she had summoned quickly went down the toilet.

But don’t mention the toilet because she will only remember that mom did it WRONG the last time we were in there, sitting on the stool instead of standing on the precise centimeter square of space she deemed appropriate for my feet. And that I didn’t wipe her while she was sitting, (apparently a totally IDIOTIC move), instead of waiting until after she got off the seat.

In fact don’t even look at her because she will find something wrong with the tilt of your head or the flicker of your eyelashes. Seriously.

Days like this make me wonder, what the fuck? Where the heck did this come from? Nothing I do is right, so I end up not wanting to do anything for her. And, good god, that’s not a good place to be in when you spend the day with a toddler. So I try again, only to be yelled at again. It makes me want to throw in the towel.

And then I look at her face and, for the moment at least, it shifts from angry tyrant to sad, sad, wisp of misery, and I realize I am not the only one miserable here. She’s having the kind of day where it seems nothing is going right, the cereal spoon is sticky, mom is crabby and making all the wrong moves, her clothes are bunching up around her middle, the list, (especially once started), goes on and on.

Poor thing.

If she were twenty she’d write in her journal, take a long bath, call in sick for work, rent a sappy movie, and talk to a girlfriend. But she’s not, she’s a month shy of three. If I were twenty I’d take a long bath and call in sick too! But alas I am thirty three and a mom. So neither of us will find comfort like that. Instead we will limp along. Maybe we will find ourselves in a bath if we don’t have to negotiate anything like water temp and the precise location of a particular bath toy. But now that I stop and imagine how many other things will most likely need to be negotiated I think I could safely say a bath probably won’t be happening after all. So anyway, we’ll limp along, without a bath, without either of us being able to call in sick, and fall mercifully into bed early.

Days like this your only ray of light is the hope that tomorrow will be different.

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Entry filed under: empathy, parenting principles. Tags: , , .

hankering for something other than chocolate bookends of horror with little miracles in between

1 Comment Add your own

  • 1. Amanda M.  |  April 14, 2010 at 3:26 am

    I’ve been meaning to subscribe and follow your blog for a while. I’ve read some posts before and I was honored to take your first tele-class with Nathan last month. For some reason I remembered to add your blog to my google reader this morning and this was the first post I saw. This was our day yesterday! It seemed like everything I did was wrong and I was feeling so frustrated! Thank you for shedding a new light on the whole situation, it’s so hard to see life through our little people’s eyes sometimes!

    Reply

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