This photo says a lot about her personality of late. It's June in Atlanta, yet she defiantly insisted on wearing socks. And deliberately chose mismatched ones. Two days in a row.
At her worst moments, I fear she is what some would call a brat, and I wonder if she can be rehabilitated. I try to remember that she's only two, and does have her good moments, too. And I also remind myself that how I respond to her outbursts will affect whether or not she continues to be a brat. But man, it's hard. Hard not to explode, hard not to just give up. Hey, has anyone ever mentioned that parenting is hard?
While we were on vacation, she charmingly asked me one day, out of the blue, "What are you thinking about, Mommy?" I think I said something along the lines of, "What a nice time I am having." Then I asked her the same question, to which she responded, "Laura." Well, if that's not toddlerhood in a nutshell, I don't know what is. She is the center of her universe and assumes ours as well.
|Photo taken through the glass doors because I was so fearful of disrupting the peace.|
It's easy to obsess about the battles I've lost and will continue to lose, but we've had victories, too. I made a new recipe tonight that all three kids ate. My eldest are reading together, not for the first time this summer vacation. Laura didn't get a story, but still went to bed as easily as she always does. When I think of these things, it seems silly to even make the analogy of parenting, or life, as a war or even a game. It's a gift, and I will endeavor to enjoy the present.