If you’ve read my last few posts, then you know that I’m struggling.
Normally, I‘m a very patient and rational person who loves solving problems. But I can’t do it with this one. I mean my children are only about to be three and one. They can’t understand me when I calmly tell them that it’s okay, to just put on their shoes, or sit still for just a minute. The only thing that they partially comprehend what I’m trying to get across to them is when I choose to yell. So I yell. A lot. And then I hate myself for doing it. For yelling at those beautiful, big brown-eyed children who I love more than anything in this world.
I’m struggling.
I'm trying so hard to constantly remind myself that this is all a phase. That at some point my toddler will stop fighting me over every little thing. That he'll throw less tantrums and eat more food. That my baby will learn to stop touching all the tings I say no to. And that they'll both be my happy babies again. But maybe that's what's breaking my heart the most. You know? The acknowledgement that this does end and that they won't be my babies anymore. They'll be little kids - too busy to stop for jumped hugs on my back or sit in my lap as we watch a movie. And I don't want to spend the rest of their littleness lives fighting them.
I'm struggling.
I constantly see all of these other moms who are picture-perfect, seeming to not have a care in the world. Who don't seem as drowned by toddler temper tantrums over inconsequential events. They don't seem to be losing their cool as much as I do on a day-to-day basis. But inside, I know that they are. They're just WAY better at hiding it than I am. I've always been a person who has worn their emotions on their sleeve. I used to think of it as strength, but in this game of motherhood, I think it's become more of a failure. As a mother, I should definitely be able to hide my worry and frustration more than I tend to do.
And now my kids are struggling.
They're trying to tell me that those shoes pinch their feet at the tops but don't have the right words to say it. They're trying to let me know that they just don't like that certain item at dinner, but have no way of doing so. And I yell at them.
So now my kids are struggling.
They've found this new independence - walking, climbing, crawling, running, talking, and grabbing things on their own. But they're still babies. And they can't control their lives they want to just yet. My daughter wants to keep up with her brother, and my son with his older cousins, but they're not quite there just yet. They're aggravated. They want to do what they want to do and they're mother keeps telling them no. They're so little with big adventurous hearts.
So they're struggling.
They see their mama getting discourage regularly. They watch as I eventually say "I'm over it" and throw up my hands while walking away. They see me start to tear up and hear me say "Why is this so hard?" And I know they sometimes see these things and I wish more than anything that I could hide them or make them go away all together. Because I know that they don't understand. Which in some ways, I'm kind of glad they don't and in other ways, I'm not because then I could at least explain to them that none of the yelling makes me love them any less.
We're all struggling.
But I know in my heart that they were both made for me. And I for them. This is the life I've always dreamed of. One that needs all of this struggle for some reason or another. Knowing that whether or not we figure it out, it doesn't matter, Because what matters is that we all get through this together.
I just hope they know that I'm not angry at you when I yell and get frustrates. I am angry, but only really at myself for not having the patience I should have.I hope that they know how much I love them, constantly working to protect and cherish them. I hope that I can always keep in mind that there are FAR more good moments as a mother than bad. And I hope that I can find myself enjoying those moments when they do happen. Because we're all struggling and need each other.
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