Sweet child of mine... Oooooooooooooh, sweet child of mine. Hey, wait, that's a song.
This whole parenting thing, specifically parenting a toddler, is turning out to be, I don't know... crazy? It is crazy. You drive me absolutely, out of my mind crazy. You have so often become the most unbearable person ever. You cry this loud, extra obnoxious, totally fake cry any time you don't like anything. Even when you cry for a real reason, it is over the top drama- you cry for way too long and in such a way that just makes other people NOT sympathetic to your cause, because the sound grates on the ears like nails on a chalkboard. You're not aware of this yet though- that you're having the exact opposite effect you're hoping to have.
You're also unbearable because you're mean. You swat at people- you swat at me. And you kick. You splash water directly into someone's face. You push your brother over, and take every single toy away from him, and close doors in his face. All he does is follow you around with a smile and adoring eyes.
You're also unbearable because you act so incredibly needy in ways that you are NOT needy, that it is enough to make a parent just want to screeeeeeeaaaaaammmmm! You obviously want all the attention that your brother gets. You don't understand the world of difference between you two, and all the things that you can do for yourself that he can't do for himself. You certainly don't see this as a good thing- you just see him getting lots of attention. So you do things like refuse to get dressed, refuse to help yourself to water, and so much more. Crazy-making, I tell you, crazy-making.
But here is the thing. I get to bitch about you because you're my kid. And you drive me bonkers. Seriously, I want to ship you away sometimes. But, I never would or could. AND, if I hear someone else get down on you- sometimes, even if it's your dad, who has just as much right to feel driven crazy by you as I do- I can't stand it, and I always find myself jumping to your defense. Because yeah, you suck so freaking often, but, I'm the only one allowed to say that. ;) Because deep down, for as much as you suck, I know no matter how much you suck, I would still do absolutely anything for you. Anything.
Because the rest of the story is this.... you are so amazing in so many ways. But here is what I'm struck by more often than not. You are so, so, so brave. You do things every single day that take more courage than your average adult musters once a year. I mean... you're three, and you don't know how to do anything, and you just keep trying every single day. We were on vacation last week in Bangkok, and you were doing things like figuring out how the elevator worked, how to ride an escalator without being eaten by it, how to navigate so many strangers being in your face all the time. You tried new foods and went swimming in a big new pool. You got yourself dressed plenty of times (because you CAN!), and by golly, the hardest part of all, you asked for help when you couldn't manage it on your own. You slept on a couch that wasn't your bed, you had your first dental check-up without having even a minor freak out. You insist on being able to do so many things on your own, even though you don't really know how to do them, and even though you end up having to ask for help. It's staggering. Adults spend so much time holding back and being afraid of new things, but you're just out there taking life by the horns, doing ALL THE THINGS. It's amazing.
You're three, and you are so very independent. You play by yourself, you dress yourself (although not always to my liking!), you toilet yourself. Heck, today, you even fixed yourself a bowl of cereal- the whole kit and caboodle, all on your own. Yes, there were a couple corn flakes on the table as well as a couple drops of milk- but you're 3, and it was ONLY a couple corn flakes and a couple drops of milk. And you sat yourself at the table and you ate. Technically, if your brother wasn't going to wake me up most days anyway, this means I could sleep in on Saturdays now, because you can get your own cereal! That's a huge milestone!
But even with all your independence, you are a very sensitive and loving little girl (when you want to be), and you need us, of course. Even though you've been sleeping in your own bed for a good 6 mos now, you still come to our bed most nights. We don't even wake up anymore, because, you just wake up, get up without crying, and climb in to our bed. It's easy. And, even though it goes against all the "rules", your dad and I love waking up to you there. Sometimes your dad gets a stiff neck or something, because you insist on cuddling up to him, and he insists on trying to not be a cuddler... but still, waking up with our whole family in one bed is something we know won't last for much longer. So we cherish it. And, it's a beautiful thing to see you ask for the love you need. That's another thing so many adults can't do. But you ask for hugs and you ask to be held, and that is a good thing.
Our nursing relationship recently ended. The truth is, I'd been ready for it to end for months now, but I had always promised myself that I would let you self-wean, and so I waited. For the last 6 or so months you'd only nursed at bedtime- and only for a few minutes at that. Your latch wasn't that great anymore, and your suck was so different than your brothers, it often irritated me. When we went on vacation, you just didn't nurse the first night. I did bedtime with you and Zintis at the same time- I nursed him, and you just laid down, and I sang a lullaby and you both went to sleep. And so for the next 10 days, that is what happened every night.
When we got home from our vacation you asked to nurse again, I think mostly because it was just habit for you, but we talked about it. We talked about how you hadn't nursed in 10 days, and how you'd slept just fine. I offered to cuddle and sing you a song, and you agreed. But as soon as I started singing, you started talking. You were talking about nursing. So we talked about it for a while- we talked about how when you were a baby you nursed so, so, so much, all the time. And then you got older and you didn't nurse as much, and now you're a big girl and you don't need it at all anymore! I asked you if you'd gotten enough milk for your belly after all that time and how much milk you'd had. You said yes. So I asked you if you'd gotten enough milk for your heart too, and you laughed and said yes. Because I know as well as you do, that nursing to the age of 3 is about more than milk. It's about you and me, and knowing that I will always be here for you. It's about trust, it's about love and it's about you being my first baby for ever and ever and ever. Weaning, mostly self-led with this little nudge from me to get you over that last bump, is about all those same things. It's about your growing up, and being ready for bigger and more things. But it is oh so much about you still knowing that I am here for you. Because you got your fill, you got what you needed, and now, we can move on together.
When I recorded the story of your weaning in your baby book, I cried. Because you are getting bigger by the day, and that tiny squish of baby that I brought home from the hospital is long gone. Because our relationship has changed so, so, so much over the last three years, and it will continue to change, and while it's all good, I mourn the ease of the relationship we once had.
More than just you is changing around here. I've gone back to work, and it's been hard. It's only 3 weeks into our new routine, and we're definitely all still adjusting, but so far, it is very, very hard. And I'm sad that I feel like I'm not doing a very good job of rising to the challenge. Being with 20 other kids all day is super draining, so I come home tired. I come home tired because neither you or your brother sleep through the night yet regularly, so I don't get as much sleep as I need either. So I'm tired, and I don't have much patience. And, just in case you're not aware, the hours of approximately 4-7 are the hours when you and your brother get possessed by the devil. You're tired and hungry, and you've had a long day of being brave, so, you just want what you want by then. So we meet at these hours, all of us tired and cranky and lacking patience, and more than anything, so far, we just butt heads, and yell and cry, all of us. It really isn't pretty. I'm trying to get better at being a better mom in those hours, I really am, because, otherwise I cry after you're in bed too. I don't want to let you down so much, and I don't want the bulk of our interactions Monday-Friday to be so negative. It's really not what I want for us. So I'm trying to rise above myself, to get to the other side, but I am failing right now. Thankfully, summer is around the corner, and we'll have weeks to chill together again. Weeks of spending days together, days full of smiles and laughter that make up for the 4-7pm hours of devilishness. I'm not waiting for summer to make things better, but I'm glad to know it's coming, to know that things WILL be better then for sure. But I am trying now too. I really am. Someday, I hope you don't look back wondering why I was so crappy, but if you do, I hope you find this sentence and know that I swear to you, I want to do better for you, but getting past my own humaness is big. And I am trying. The most important thing is that you know you are loved. I know I'm screwing up every day in so many ways, but if you know you are loved, it will all be ok in the end.
Like I said, kid, this parenting thing- especially parenting a toddler- it's wild. It's hard. And yet, it can be so much fun, that it makes you forget how crazy you are the rest of the time. Which is good- very, very good.
So here's to being three. Here's to being independent and brave and so dependent, and even more brave. Here's to growing up, to looking forward to new things (you know you're starting school in August, and you're pretty excited about it. It'll be another very big step!). But here's to you always being my baby, and being forever and ever and ever in my heart- because you are, and you will be, no matter how crazy you make me.
Bucas, Pile!
Mamma
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