Last night my mother’s helper said to me, “I’m beginning to understand why you need them all to be in bed by 7:00.” Her eyes were wide with … disbelief? Horror? I’m still unsure. I think it’s probably shocking to her how much energy my kids have, and she probably wonders how I keep up with them. Well … I don’t. Which is why I needed to find some help, and that is where she comes in.
Sometimes I have bad days and I just don’t want to be bothered with them. I don’t feel like being a mom. I don’t feel like feeding anyone. I just want to be left ALONE to do what I want to do, because I am human and selfish and easily annoyed when I don’t get enough time and space to myself.
It’s so easy to fall into a mindset where you start to view your family as a burden, like your children are just another thing you have to deal with. Asher is 2.5 and going through that difficult stage where everything is a struggle. It hasn’t been that long since Maverick was that age, but I seem to have totally blocked out how terrible it was. I’ve already forgotten.
Asher and I have been struggling. Two-year-olds aren’t my favorite, honestly, and I don’t feel guilty for saying that because IT’S ASS HARD TO DEAL WITH A TODDLER. Potty training is hell, and if it were up to me he would stay in diapers for another year until he can totally dress and undress himself and understand that we don’t put a whole roll of toilet paper in the toilet. We just don’t. But he is insistent on using the potty because he sees his big brother doing it, and I feel like if I ban him from it or discourage him in some way, it will just create more problems. And so, I have surrendered.
It takes a lot of prayer and a lot of deep breaths for me to keep it together during this phase that we’re in. But we’ll make it, he and I. We’ll make it to the fall when he is three and hopefully potty trained and I can send him off to preschool with a tiny backpack.
Yesterday, I was sitting on the floor of the laundry room with him trying to take off his muddy shoes. He wouldn’t let me — he was intent on throwing Maverick’s dirty socks into the dryer with the clean laundry. He kicked and wiggled and stood up over and over until finally I popped him on the leg. As he cried, I said, “Asher, I’m sorry I had to pop you, but you have to learn to obey.”
And then before I knew what was happening, he was wrapping his skinny arms around my neck and hugging me tight. “I sowwy too, Mommy. I sowwy too.“
There it is. The magic. That’s why I love this gig even when it sucks, and man, can it suck. I press on because I know those moments are coming … I just never know when.