Monday, October 1, 2012

Day 1

There is a 31 day writing challenge out there floating around. I believe the originator is The Nester. It's a bit of a joke for me to try, but try I will. My thirty-one days of writing will be on parenting. After having a few weeks that felt a bit like "coasting," I felt like we've recently hit several bumps. Cora is a delight, a charmer, and all the bits of funny and entertaining that typically come from a two year old. However, she is also challenging, independent, occasionally irrational, as well as deeply sinful. (She gets that last one from me. Just kidding. No, I'm only kidding now.)

Today, she seemed impossible to please. Not that it's my job to please her, but I do love her and want to give her good things. Things were busy today - groceries to buy & put away, a baby brother to care for, a dinner to prepare, and so on. I would try to play with her, and also to invite her to come alongside me and participate or watch me do one thing or another (usually an idea she's on board with). However, she rejected just about effort to make the day fun, and instead would request that her whims or desires be met as soon as the words left her lips. Failure to meet such desires was rewarded with tears, whining and basically acting like I tore her heart to shreds. I want to say yes more. We were just talking about that in a parenting class last week. Say yes, yes to the little, inconvenient things, that really don't hurt anybody. But when I just put on the dress (straight from the washer, as she didn't want to wait for it to dry) she requested, watched her dance performance, clapped for the gymnastic exhibition, helped with another wardrobe change, and now need to throw some clothes in the dryer, I'd prefer it to not be the end of the world if I say "one minute" when she asks to change into yet another outfit.

These meltdown episodes usually left me feeling bewildered and incompetent. At one point, I carried her to her room, all but dumped her on the bed, and fled to my own sleeping sanctuary for a moment of quiet (or what would have been quiet if we had sound-proof walls). I prayed briefly, groaned for a bit longer and then wondered what Brad would think if he came home at that exact moment. Deacon was stuck on the living room floor doing the conversational yelp-and-holler routine he's fond of these days. I told myself that Cora was tired, she just needed a nap. Then I remembered that nap time ended forty-five minutes ago.

Obviously, we survived the rest of the evening. And the Daddy Rescue Squad arrived within the next hour, which always brings a second wind. We get to brave a doctor's visit tomorrow for D's shots and check-up. At the least, it should make for an entertaining blog post...

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