The other night I wrote an email to Matt that I’m sure he wishes I had not sent.
It went something like: Come get this BLEEPING child before I kill my BLEEPING self.
I tell y’all the good, and so I must tell y’all the bad. Sometimes life and motherhood and work and home all get to be too much- and that’s when I loose my BLEEP.
God I love this child, how I love this child- which is why it is so confusing when she scratches my face with frustration or screams at the top of her lungs, or throws herself onto the floor head first, or bangs her eyeball into the sharp corner of her crib, or bucks her way out of the bathtub. And why, why Dear Lord, does she choose to do all of these things in one night, when her Father is not home, and I am working with one last nerve.
Stormy Sunny is back- and she is worse than EVER. Two new molars means tantrums and fits. But my 15 month old does not just scream she yells- NOOOOOOO, NOOOO WAAAYYYYY, NOOO WAAAYYY MAAAAMMMMMAAAAAAA! She yells in public places, throws fits on the park floor, causes me to turn my back on her and walk away. Yes- I walk away- would you claim the screaming child on the park play ground?
This is what it is, motherhood.
It is equal parts love and mirrors. I do my best to stop my child from hurting herself but she is small and curious and smart and can not be stopped. She tests the limits, breaks my boundries, and insist that she knows better than I. I watch her (fearless) and I know me (full of fears) and I see us battle day in and day out. I pull her toward me, she pushes away from me, and then we fight in public at the park. This is what it is- me letting her make mistakes, getting her feelings hurt, falling down a concrete stair; her learning, feeling, getting back up and trying that concrete stair again. In her I see me, in me she only see’s her Mama- someone who loves her and cares for her and feeds her but is not her- and this will be our relationship now and forever more. Me seeing me and her seeing her and us fighting against it all.
Love and Mirrors, Mommy and Gracie, Storms and Sunshine. This is what it is.
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My dear Stephanie, you just got a taste of Gracie at 16. Welcome to parenthood.