It’s real you guys. It’s a real thing. Like a “from the time you wake up until the time you go to bed, in your face, beating up your emotions and your brain and all your will power and self control” kind of real.
And I’m failing miserably. Like I’m for real not doin’ so hot over here. Like therapy is a reality (I exaggerate–sort of).
I teter-totter back and forth between going completely insane about every little thing she shouldn’t be doing to very passively just letting her paint her entire body with water colors in the driveway wearing only underwear.
The Bible says in 1 Corinthians 10:13 that “no temptation has seized you except what is common to man…” –so I’m just gonna go ahead and assume I’m not the only momma out there wanting to scream and yell and throw/punch things and lock either myself or my child in a room all alone for a significant period of time.
I, an avid non-runner, even mentioned the other day to my husband that I now TOTALLY understand why so many mother’s of young children have started running marathons. It’s like–all this rage from tiny children being horribly mean to you for your entire existence has to go SOMEWHERE.
I’m a food source. a bodyguard. a cook. a problem solver (I try). a maid. a caretaker. an un-packer (again, I try). a victim of toddler bullying.
You know the episode of “I Love Lucy” where they go to work in the chocolate factory. It starts out slow and then all of a sudden OMG chocolate is flying everywhereeeeee.
I described this scene to my husband over dinner the other night as I tried to explain what I felt like inside as Barrett cried while I tried to scarf down the dinner I’d made with a baby on my hip and a toddler screaming rolling around by my ankles and the messes strewn all over the house including the puddle of water in the kitchen made by Aisley who is convinced she doesn’t need any help from anyone especially when it comes to stretching on her tippy toes to get her own water from the fridge.
And then knowing that I’ll be doing the exact same thing again tomorrow.
It’s like the worst job conditions ever with the worst pay that you want to quit absolutely every day but that you also love more than anything else in the world.
And it’s like, I want a break from all the madness, but not like a “come get my child and take them away from me” kind of break (although, don’t let me stop you)–more like a “I want to spend the day with the happy, healthy, loving, kind child that USED to live here.”
Because I’ve had wonderful people take this two year old tornado off my hands and guess what–she’s a perfect angel the whole time. And then the moment she is returned to me, the insanity unleashes and everything from the way I lift her into her car seat to the cup I choose for her chocolate milk is WRONG!
She doesn’t like me a whole lot right now. And to be honest, I don’t always like her a whole lot right now.
But I love her. And she loves me. And in between the yelling and the whining and the pleading to “Please, please, please I beg of you stop doing things that are going to give me an aneurysm every second” we hug and snuggle and kiss sweet toddler cheeks and play hide and seek and laugh and for brief moments throughout the day, there are glimpses of the wonderful twos.
But man, those terrible twos…they are persistent and they are powerful and they are painful.
Jesus, forgive me for every single day of my life being a terrible two to you.