I’ve been thinking a lot about being the parent of a toddler lately. Struggling a lot with my toddler. She’s awesome but so frustrating at the same time. Since our massive tantrum explosions lately I’ve been tentative about taking her anywhere with me. She jumps from place to place and topic to topic, she wants to be carried or doesn’t want to hold my hand or wants to ride in the stroller but then tries to stand up in it. She’s high and low and everything all at once.
I’ve been struggling with my toddler. She tires me out and frustrates me and sometimes by the end of the week I’ve become this person that I don’t want to be with her.
It occurs to me that with her, I am it. I am the last line of defence. When it comes down to it, often Grandma can’t help and she doesn’t want Daddy, and I’m the one fighting with her or comforting her. I’m the one she begs for attention.
When I wake up and go downstairs and she runs across the room to hug me it’s great. When I’m sitting in a hot car with her screaming and crying and yelling “MOMMY!” over and over again I wonder if I’m the right person for the job. Lately it’s been a lot more of that. Why does she cry out for me when I can’t help? Why does she beg me for comfort when I can’t give it, even if I want to desperately. Why does she look to me when I clearly don’t have the strength for her?
There are the days when I love her so deeply and I lose sight of why she might love me.