Dear friends, family, regular visitors, lurkers and thoughtful commenters,
I don’t want to be negative. I want to be fun(ny).
The Therrible Threes
I want to be profound (if only on occasion). I want to be clever, and judging by my attempt at an alliterative title… I care not whether certain words are actually words.
One thing is certain, I am pretty honest about the whole “motherhood thing”. I am not the mom I thought I’d be… nor the mom I want to be… but I love my kids. I just never thought I would consider “time in an institution” a desired “getaway”. They say children change a person… who knew?
Where am I going with this?
Oh. My daughter. Oh. My. Daughter.
She’ll be three in March. “Therribly Three”, and I am already nearly at mercy’s end. I breathe out. I smile. I coo and give her clear choices. She pushes and pulls and tries to steer and direct and move the tide in a direction the tide has never gone. She’s trying to break the Levee (a.k.a. ME)…
I am a grown woman. My word. I just want to get from “Point A” to “Point B”.
There are no letters between “A” and “B”, unless you’re nearly 3. What’s with the blank stare? Hello. I know her legs are much shorter than mine, but is it possible for ANY human to walk THAT slow!!!???
The intensity is, well… intensifying. I find myself feeling frantic, not unlike the feeling of being taken down by a wave. You see it coming and you rush to dive under before it breaks, but there is just not enough time. It breaks right on you, and you start tumbling.
There is little you can do but hold your breath and swim up once it’s passed. Sometimes, you get scraped up and and water gets up your nose. Sometimes you lose your boogie board…
Today, I don’t feel ready to parent this child. I don’t feel I am able to parent the way I know I should. The way I want to. I feel like there has been wave after wave after wave, and I just can’t make it to shore. I just need a moment to dry off my face, get the sand outta my shorts, eat a sandwich, drink a can of Coke, and put some vinegar on the jellyfish sting.
Not so much. This is real life, and as sure as the sun rises, so will She. So will I… all banged up. Isn’t it amazing how that love-thing works?
