Serenity Now!

I always  knew exactly the kind of mother I was going to be. I knew all the things I was going to do, how to handle every delicate situation and, it has to be said, was very certain how to handle even the dreaded Terrible Twos. I would do it all with grace and composure and I would make it look easy. Then, I would sit down for a brief repose, clutch my pearls, smooth my dress, and perhaps do a spot of light baking to revel in my triumph of the Maternal and Domestic realms.

Then I had a child, and that stuff all hit the fan.

I am not sure there is a way that one can convey to a person who has never had children, or had to look after children, or perhaps (I am told there are even some who) have never met a child the absolute chaotic mess of feelings the little beasts can create in you. However, it is a truth universally acknowledged that a woman in possession of a small child must be in want of a holiday.

I am that woman today. I have abandoned all my high ideals of discussing feelings, and explaining action and consequence and I am just a bundle of nerves which had been tread upon almost to breaking.

But.

It's okay.

That is allowed.

If you're going to try to raise a human being, you need to realize that you are not perfect, you have little more than instinct and personal judgement to guide you, and you will mess up. The best we can hope for is to have a well intentioned syllabus of sorts, and love. Your child will always know they are loved. Similarly, they will certainly know when they are not. Even when you're red in the face from snapping at them, surveying the disaster area that was once your home, and wondering WHY DID I DO THIS TO MYSELF I COULD LITERALLY BE ANYWHERE ELSE RIGHT NOW, they will look at you with their little eyes and communicate something entirely without words.

You are mine. I am yours. I love you forever, okay?

For better or worse, this is the deal that we have struck.

So when I find myself as that big bundle of nerves, I take a couple of deep breaths and I let it wash over and under and away from me, and I continue on. So very little of DS' life is going to revolve around me, I shouldn't resent that all of it does right now. Thus goes my mantra.

Though, I do wish he would heel a little better on his leash...

I was never going to be a mother with a child on a leash, but I never counted on being the mother of a six month old who became adept at scaling the sides of his cot and lunging outwardly, in lieu of sleeping. As he got older, he got bolder, and seemingly less able to appreciate mortal danger. Coincidentally, I became more able to appreciate that much of my motherly role was to keep DS from killing himself.

And that's about the long and short of every day in the Terrible Twos. He's like your drunk friend at the end of the party. You know he should leave, you're tired, he's tired, and he's off his face - so you need to get him home, stop him from insulting people or getting in their way, and hope all the while that he doesn't puke over your new sweater. You just got this sweater, and if he does puke on it, you're just going to kick yourself and think, 'Obviously, Self, this is why we can't have nice things.'

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