I'm having one of those days/weeks/months where I'm fairly certain I totally, completely, utterly suck at motherhood. Lack of a decent night's sleep is partly the problem.
My son woke up in the middle of the night because a mosquito was buzzing around his head and driving him batty because, of course, mosquitos know that you are trying to sleep and choose that moment to annoy and laugh their little mosquito butts off because, hey, look, I made the giant human jump up and down and, BONUS!, cry. I vaguely remember mumbling something along the lines of, "Go back to bed. There's nothing I can do."
He woke up the night before because of a bad dream. Something about a skull and a glowing red eye. He crawled into bed with us because he was scared, and after an hour of his gangly arms and legs smacking me in my face and stomach, I put him back in his own bed, mumbling something along the lines of "Go back to sleep. Don't think about anything scary." Ever so helpful, that little nugget of wisdom...
Then there is our daughter. I am getting my ass kicked daily by a 2 year old. Daily temper tantrums. As in, EVERY SINGLE DAY daily, in case I haven't made that point clear enough. Screaming, crying, stamping her feet, throwing herself to the floor when we try to get her dressed, get her in the tub, get her to the table for dinner, or I dunno, touch her elbow.
Logically, I know that t
his is a phase that will eventually pass. Emotionally, I know that I'm on the verge of a breakdown.
Every time she screams I can feel my heart beating faster, my blood pressure rising, and a red haze sometimes covers my eyes. My hands shake and I cover my ears to try and muffle the sound, which, on days when I feel stronger, reminds me of the far-off train whistle I heard every morning growing up in the small town I lived in. I go into the bathroom and shut the door to try and get away from that high-pitched, endless screech of "N-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O!!".
Days like today, I'm on the verge of tears myself because I am so frustrated with her and pissed off with me that I cannot FIGURE OUT HOW TO MAKE IT STOP. Days like today, I want to run away. Days like today I question whether I'm cut out for this. Days like today, I want to stay in bed and throw the covers over my head and watch back-to-back episodes of House or Third Watch or Days of Our Lives. Days like today I can't help but say "F-U-U-C-K..."
On days like today, eventually, I think of my Grammy. She died in March of 2000, and I miss her still because she was so smart and beautiful, and her advice was always to the point and practical. I sniff the little pillow she made a long time ago and that my daughter now sleeps on to see if I can smell her. Once in awhile I swear Grammy's scent is still there in that pillow and I remember that she would always say "This too shall pass." And I can her voice saying, "You're the parent. ACT LIKE IT."
She's right. I take a deep breath and get ready to do this again tomorrow.
My son woke up in the middle of the night because a mosquito was buzzing around his head and driving him batty because, of course, mosquitos know that you are trying to sleep and choose that moment to annoy and laugh their little mosquito butts off because, hey, look, I made the giant human jump up and down and, BONUS!, cry. I vaguely remember mumbling something along the lines of, "Go back to bed. There's nothing I can do."
He woke up the night before because of a bad dream. Something about a skull and a glowing red eye. He crawled into bed with us because he was scared, and after an hour of his gangly arms and legs smacking me in my face and stomach, I put him back in his own bed, mumbling something along the lines of "Go back to sleep. Don't think about anything scary." Ever so helpful, that little nugget of wisdom...
Then there is our daughter. I am getting my ass kicked daily by a 2 year old. Daily temper tantrums. As in, EVERY SINGLE DAY daily, in case I haven't made that point clear enough. Screaming, crying, stamping her feet, throwing herself to the floor when we try to get her dressed, get her in the tub, get her to the table for dinner, or I dunno, touch her elbow.
Logically, I know that t
his is a phase that will eventually pass. Emotionally, I know that I'm on the verge of a breakdown.Every time she screams I can feel my heart beating faster, my blood pressure rising, and a red haze sometimes covers my eyes. My hands shake and I cover my ears to try and muffle the sound, which, on days when I feel stronger, reminds me of the far-off train whistle I heard every morning growing up in the small town I lived in. I go into the bathroom and shut the door to try and get away from that high-pitched, endless screech of "N-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O!!".
Days like today, I'm on the verge of tears myself because I am so frustrated with her and pissed off with me that I cannot FIGURE OUT HOW TO MAKE IT STOP. Days like today, I want to run away. Days like today I question whether I'm cut out for this. Days like today, I want to stay in bed and throw the covers over my head and watch back-to-back episodes of House or Third Watch or Days of Our Lives. Days like today I can't help but say "F-U-U-C-K..."
On days like today, eventually, I think of my Grammy. She died in March of 2000, and I miss her still because she was so smart and beautiful, and her advice was always to the point and practical. I sniff the little pillow she made a long time ago and that my daughter now sleeps on to see if I can smell her. Once in awhile I swear Grammy's scent is still there in that pillow and I remember that she would always say "This too shall pass." And I can her voice saying, "You're the parent. ACT LIKE IT."
She's right. I take a deep breath and get ready to do this again tomorrow.
1 comment:
Funny you ended with Gram...as I was reading your post, I thought of her...and what she told me when I was a little girl and had horrible nightmares that I still remember to this day (I'm a freak of nature, I admit it)..."think of something good, Barbara...like Santa Claus and lollipops..."
And I went back to sleep and dreamed it was raining Santas and bright funky coloured lollipops.
And yes, I remember that dream too.
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