As moms, as parents, we don’t always know what we are doing. We don’t always know what’s best. I find myself at a loss often. I wing it. I make shit up as I go along.
Today I failed miserably. And I caught myself at failing. And somehow, somehow, I managed to fix it.
Baby Girl has been very sick all week. Since Monday night she’s been feverish, coughing like she has croup, and not eating. Tuesday and Wednesday she threw up. She slept til 3 pm and was asleep again at 7. I think I got one pedialyte popsicle, one half of a frozen baked pretzel and a bunch of water in her. She cried. She moaned in her sleep. She slept in my bed and my husband took Sissy’s bed. I took her temperature 1,882 times. It got up to 101.8 Wednesday night. That doesn’t seem too terribly bad right? But even at 100 she was bright red and burning up all over. Even her feet were hot. She missed school all week long and this was the weekend she had her class mascot, Maggie the Monkey. Maggie is still with us. Maggie is probably wishing she had stayed at school.
Thursday Baby Girl got up and actually played for an hour. Still fever, still coughing, but playing! Yay. On her way to recovery. Spent some time on the ipad (you can judge me if you want to – I don’t care), watched a lot of Mouse and Vampirina and Paw Patrol. Ate very little still, napped a couple hours but not all day. But this morning the fever was gone! Hallelujah!
And she ate breakfast. And then…. she had meltdown after fit after meltdown after fit. All. Day. Long.
My husband and I were both frustrated with her all day. A couple of spankings did not improve her attitude. Eating powdered sugar donuts did not improve her attitude. Sugesting a nap did not improve her attitude. She was a PILL.
So after a very long day I was tired and cranky and I was putting her to bed in HER bed for the first time this week. She did not agree that she should sleep in her own bed. She wanted to sleep on the floor in my room. I said no. She screamed. It became an ordeal. She kept pushing and I kept saying no. She would scream and kick and I would tell her I was going to leave the room if she didn’t stop screaming at me. So she would cry louder and say NO I WANT YOU. At one point I yelled WHO IS THE BOSS HERE?! And she yelled YOU ARE! And I said RIGHT! And she kicked the sheets in frustration, tears pouring.
And I looked at her tiny red and white angry and sad face with the tears sparkling on her cheeks and I just stopped. And I said “come here.” She looked at me, surprised, not sure. I said “come here” again. And she did. I hugged her. Held her to me and put my mouth on her neck and whispered “it’s ok Baby. Everything is alright.” And she stopped. The fit stopped immediately. I said “I love you baby and everything is ok.” And she shakily said “I love you also.”
She laid back in her bed and I laid down and I held her hand and I talked to her. We talked about nothing very important. And after awhile she went to sleep. In her own bed.
I had tears at that moment. The moment I realized that she, for whatever reason, was having a very bad, very off day and she just needed me. To be there for her. Why am I yelling at you, my own tiny person? You are the very last person I want to be angry at. You are so little, only four years old.
Don’t forget that, Mommy, don’t forget that sometimes I just need to be loved.
