Some Days are Hard


Some days I gaze lovingly at my sweet, beautiful children and think, yeah, let’s do this again. Let’s have a third.

Today was not one of those days.

Some days motherhood is like slipping on a silk robe. It’s soft, it’s beautiful, you feel good in it. Other days, it feels like an old t-shirt, stretched too tight across your skin, the edges frayed, loose threads threatening to catch on something and unravel everything.

Today, that t-shirt was also covered in spit-up, Crayola markers, and yogurt.

It was a day where I felt pulled in different directions, stretched too thin. I drank too much coffee. I hid in the kitchen to bake cookies. I ate those cookies for lunch. I slammed a cupboard. I raised my voice. My neighbours decided 7 pm was a great time to start fixing up their stone walkway.

My son’s day in numbers:

Naps: 3

Number of naps in his crib: 1

Total time spent asleep: 90 minutes

Poops: 3

Spit-ups: too many to count.

He is on the verge of crawling but has recently discovered that he can pull himself up to standing on surrounding furniture. He’s either using me to do so (while my toddler demands I hold a toy in each hand and make them talk) or fussing because I’m just out of reach, trying to stand up while I’m not looking (and inevitably falling over and hurting himself), or pulling himself up to standing over and over and over again in his crib when he’s supposed to be falling asleep. Many nap attempts were abandoned today.

If this were a game of poker, I would see that needy baby and raise myself one very cranky toddler. I only hope this is not the start of the “threenager” phase. She has discovered the word “No” and the power it holds.

A small sample of the causes of tantrums today:

  • the playing of Alanis Morissette’s Jagged Little Pill
  • refusing to let her bring her step-stool to her Preschool program
  • asking for chocolate and being given a piece instead of the entire bar (in her defence, this one doesn’t seem completely unreasonable)
  • not enjoying the programming on Treehouse or TVO, resulting in the turning off of the TV altogether

It was a long day, but it’s Friday and the start of a long weekend. The kids are both asleep, the wine has been poured, the house is quiet.

The ratty, too-tight t-shirt has been pulled off and thrown in the laundry. When I put it back on in the morning it won’t feel as worn and tattered.

And who knows, maybe tomorrow I’ll get to wear the silk robe.



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