Parenting is hard.

Been catching myself thinking bad thoughts lately. Like this one . . .

"Who cares if she sees that, it's not like I'm going to be perfect. Better this than something else."

or

"Ugh, I can hear my mother scolding me for doing that right now. I don't even care. Can't take it back so, whatever."

terrible two

Isn't just a description of a 2-year old little girl . . . defines the two of us together. She's terrible, but I'm terrible too.

Of course I'm tired. Of course I can't be perfect.

And why are those excuses good enough for me?

They're not.

My daughter is a screaming monster (not all the time, but whenever she sees a golden opportunity), and I've reverted back to my 16 year old reactive self. What happened?

Getting a grip takes longer than I intended. There is so much you know about parenting before you get there, but it is a totally different ball game when you arrive. I knew I would find myself in front of a squealing two year old who needed a level of understanding and patience from me . . . but I didn't know I would fail to understand and be patient so many times. It's not that I don't know I need to take into consideration that she is only two and can't exactly reason like I can (lol) . . . it's just that sometimes my inner calm (no such thing) is not always present and instead I react to how she is interfering with me. It stops being a child and parent and somehow gets construed into equals battling over something that I am clearly right about. Which inevitably leads to me being frustrated and showing it in unloving ways. Like yelling. Or being short and simply unreasonable. She is two. I can't do exactly what she does, react. Not without thinking first. Thinking the right thing too . . .

See I am capable of understanding not only where she is coming from, but what I am supposed to do. Be better, to put it simply and yes, quite vaguely.

There are soooo many things I need to be better at. From going to bed at a decent hour (now that Ben kinda sleeps through the night) to fine tuning my faith.

I love being a mom. I need start showing it by getting better.

Man, the things I would do over . . . and it is only just the beginning. Parenting brings out your worst, quickly. It's not that you become aware all of a sudden. I have always been aware. It's just that putting off bettering yourself now negatively influences your child immediately. They will learn to do the same things. My spouse sees my faults and encourages me. He doesn't decide to join me in my sins. My child . . . my child sees and does. I freak out at the end of a long day because the pile of diapers falls over after I folded them (tragic, I know) . . . my daughter sees that, and the next day when her pile of food in the colander on her stove falls all over the floor she loses her mind . . . I'm left to mourn that fact that I taught her that. (Not the end, I know. I correct and teach . . . in myself? Not as quickly.)

They see way more than you want.

On a much sweeter note . . .

Months ago, I was kneeling in front of the couch folding laundry and placing it on the cushions, sobbing. Some disappointment that did me in because I was too tired to handle it . . . anyway. My sweet little girl comes up to me and holds me. She wrapped her sweet little arms around my neck and held my head against hers. She kissed my cheek. "Mama sad? It ottay." Then she backed away and saw that I was still sad, so she came right back in for more snuggles. She snuggled me until I stopped crying. It was the sweetest thing ever.

Oh, and the morning of our vacation when our car died and I lost it. When I finally emerged from self pity and went up stairs to rejoin life, Libby said, "I hold mama." And insisted on me holding her so she could hug me.

Sigh

I love my babies. They will know it. I'm sure of that, but man oh man . . . I've got work to do.