Just a minute...
That seems to be the phrase most often uttered by me in this home. And sadly, it is spoken the most to the one who is the least bit able to help herself; Laynee. I find myself constantly repeating those words to her, and usually at a time when she has so patiently and politely asked for help. What's so important that I can't get up off my duff or tear myself away from what I am doing right at that moment? Nothing. Nothing! That's the worst part of it. I just simply don't want to do it. Selfish, tired, I'm busy, I barely sat down only to get back up; all of them excuses. And right when her limit has been reached and she starts whining for it now, now, NOW, is the same time that my limit has been reached and I lose it. My patience has been shot and then it's down to a battle of a mommy who thinks she's in the right and a hungry/thirsty/attention starved 4 year old who, in reality, truly is in the right.
It surely isn't easy being a mother, but I'm almost positive it's not any easier being a child. You can't ever do just exactly what you want, you're too small to reach light switches, to pour yourself a glass of milk, run the bathwater by yourself. You can't even choose what you want to eat for every meal. Most everything is decided for you. And then, then when you've had enough of it all, you get punished for expressing how you feel.
It's this thought that keeps me awake right now, the wee hour of the morning. When most people are still sleeping; I cannot. I laid in bed for the longest time, mind wandering, not wanting morning to come because it meant that I had to deal with a whiny, back talky, demanding, high maintenance child once her morning sweetness had worn off, when through the darkness of my thoughts, a glaring sliver of understanding pierced through. It drove me to her bedside in tears. This little one, whom I immediately dubbed my angel baby the second she was placed on my tummy seconds after vacating it; this one is our baby. Quite possibly our last child. The youngest.
There are 5 and 1/2 empty years between her and her next oldest sibling. She has no other playmates besides me. I am her best friend. I am her mommy. She looks to no one else but me for guidance, example and nurturing moments wherein I teach her how to be a wife and a mother. And what have I taught her? To resort to crying before she even tries to ask nicely for something because that's the quickest way to get a response? To speak unkindly and yell at her older brother and sister because that's the way mommy does it to get them to listen to her?
There's a saying that I've heard many, many times that goes something like, "Speak kind words, receive kind echos." Nothing has felt more true than that, right. now.
Having said all that, my mind has been put at ease by the simple comfort and knowledge that she loves me regardless (and perhaps in spite) of all of the above. Just now, as I left the warm, sleeping form of our baby, I kissed her a little more, smelled her sweet sweaty head, asked for forgiveness and whispered promises of a new day, a full cup of patience and a mommy who, simply put, adores her.
On a totally random side note:
This room (Hunter's) reeks of cat pee. Tomorrow, before I scour and disinfect the entire room, but after she has been turfed for good, the cat is and forever will be banned from ever entering the house again. She is, as of now, a free agent and is available to anyone who wants her. I'm not even kidding. That'll put an end to her so called punishing us for switching her food to that of a weight management variety.
Oh, and I'm in Hunter's room because, well, it's a long story...
It surely isn't easy being a mother, but I'm almost positive it's not any easier being a child. You can't ever do just exactly what you want, you're too small to reach light switches, to pour yourself a glass of milk, run the bathwater by yourself. You can't even choose what you want to eat for every meal. Most everything is decided for you. And then, then when you've had enough of it all, you get punished for expressing how you feel.
It's this thought that keeps me awake right now, the wee hour of the morning. When most people are still sleeping; I cannot. I laid in bed for the longest time, mind wandering, not wanting morning to come because it meant that I had to deal with a whiny, back talky, demanding, high maintenance child once her morning sweetness had worn off, when through the darkness of my thoughts, a glaring sliver of understanding pierced through. It drove me to her bedside in tears. This little one, whom I immediately dubbed my angel baby the second she was placed on my tummy seconds after vacating it; this one is our baby. Quite possibly our last child. The youngest.
There are 5 and 1/2 empty years between her and her next oldest sibling. She has no other playmates besides me. I am her best friend. I am her mommy. She looks to no one else but me for guidance, example and nurturing moments wherein I teach her how to be a wife and a mother. And what have I taught her? To resort to crying before she even tries to ask nicely for something because that's the quickest way to get a response? To speak unkindly and yell at her older brother and sister because that's the way mommy does it to get them to listen to her?
There's a saying that I've heard many, many times that goes something like, "Speak kind words, receive kind echos." Nothing has felt more true than that, right. now.
Having said all that, my mind has been put at ease by the simple comfort and knowledge that she loves me regardless (and perhaps in spite) of all of the above. Just now, as I left the warm, sleeping form of our baby, I kissed her a little more, smelled her sweet sweaty head, asked for forgiveness and whispered promises of a new day, a full cup of patience and a mommy who, simply put, adores her.
On a totally random side note:
This room (Hunter's) reeks of cat pee. Tomorrow, before I scour and disinfect the entire room, but after she has been turfed for good, the cat is and forever will be banned from ever entering the house again. She is, as of now, a free agent and is available to anyone who wants her. I'm not even kidding. That'll put an end to her so called punishing us for switching her food to that of a weight management variety.
Oh, and I'm in Hunter's room because, well, it's a long story...
Comments
Love ya Em.