quiet, at last

The kid, he naps. Or I guess I should say, “The kid, he doesn’t nap,” because that’s been the issue for much of the afternoon. I’m trying to work, and he’s trying to surgically attach himself to my lap. Conflict? Why, yes. YOU try typing code while someone does his best to pick up items on your desk with his little monkey toes.

But he is asleep now, hallelujah and hooray and all that. Happy Fun Baby gets short-tempered when he’s tired, and my afternoon has been punctuated by the sound of a toddler flinging himself to the ground and wailing in misery at the slightest provocation. Provocation like the fact that the sky is blue, or that his cup was out of water. After he drank it.

I had this great moment today, though, despite the tantrums and the screaming and the back arching (oh, how I despise the back arching). I was snuggling with the kid on the couch and I looked down at him and  thought “This is how I want it to be.” I have always pictured myself as a mother, but since becoming a mother I haven’t felt…right. I’m depressed, I’m anxious, I’m impatient, blah blah blah, but more than that, I’m doing this square peg thing, and it just isn’t cool. Because this is what I’ve wanted all my life, so now that I have it, I should appreciate every second. Right?

But today, things were just good. I love my kid, and I love hanging out with my kid, and maybe I’m not doing such a bad job after all.

Or maybe the meds are finally kicking in. You know, one or the other.

2 thoughts on “quiet, at last”

  1. A little of one, little of the other. The No So Cranky Dada is right, and my Boy is likewise right, that we tend to give ourselves too little credit for the job we manage to do. Sumo-wrestling a toddler demanding all of our attention and Everything Right Now while trying to get other stuff done that just has to be done. Doing the above without losing our shit on a permanent basis. Getting up again tomorrow knowing that it may happen all over again ten thousand times before these kids give us a moment’s peace.

    Motherhood. It ain’t for wimps.

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