In the past weeks, I have written a lot about parenting and what little I know about it. Mostly, I write about the good parts, the funny moments.
It’s not always like that.
I’m not a very good parent. Oh, I do okay most of the time. Nate never goes hungry and he always has clothes to wear and toys to enjoy. We play together and I have taught him to count and to say his ABCs. But, most days, I find myself frustrated, tired, or ready to go back to bed.
Part of that is that Nate is 2 1/2 and he has 10 times more energy than should be legal. He requires a good deal of chasing and a lot of wrangling while he's awake. He also talks nonstop, which is mostly saying the same thing 15 times a second and then telling me that I’m wrong. “The sky not blue, Mommy. It purple.” Rinse and repeat a thousand times a day.
Nate is also very outgoing and uber-friendly, which often stresses this introverted mama. I’m perfectly happy to sit at home and do something quiet, but since sitting and quiet are the forbidden activities to a toddler, other activities must be found. He’s the kid that will yell at every single person at Target whether he gets grumpy stares or smiling encouragement. I would much rather just get the shopping list done quickly, but that’s simply not possible.
Mostly, though, it’s me. I’m frustrated because I don’t get what I want, whether it’s a smooth mealtime or a happy child. I don’t pitch a fit like Nate does, but I can easily feel resentful. This week was just one of “those” weeks. There was nothing significant on the calendar, but at least four evenings out of five found me wondering if we were going to survive toddlerhood. There were meltdowns, public and private by the both of us. It was ugly. I wished for a margarita machine on more than one occasion.
And you know what? It ended. Last night, Daniel took Nate to the Potomac Nationals game in Woodbridge while I did some shopping. It was quiet. I took my time, looked at everything I wanted to and then some. When they got in the car, they were dripping wet with the night’s cold rain. I was glad to see him and hear his chatter about the ball game. It was a good night for us all.
He has his faults, and I have mine. We clash a lot, but we laugh too. The good is there with the bad. And well, that’s normal, I think.