Forgive my excessive alliteration. I sometimes find it to be therapeutic, and I needed some therapy today.
And coffee.
I’m on my second cup and I’m usually just a one cup kind of girl.
Apparently I’m not the only one around here who is “in a funk”today (I’ve always hated that phrase, but it works). The girl usually loves going to school, and she’s never before been sad when I dropped her off, so it seemed to come from nowhere this morning when she held on to my leg, refusing to let go, ignoring her happily hugging classmate best friend. “I want to stay with you. I want to stay with you,” was on repeat from her lips as I tried to figure out my escape. Both teachers tried to help, but we were all shocked as this is just not the usual behavior of Linnea. When I finally made my escape, I held back tears until I got to the car. What a jerk I am for leaving her, right? Maybe? Maybe not? I don’t know. These things happen, right?
My guess is that her spending every waking moment with me over the weekend, especially since I was out of town the last two weekends, has ruined her for anything else. Turns out, I’m awesome to hang out with (you know, if you’re four). That’s my theory anyway.
We’ve had a few firsts lately (this and projectile vomiting too), and it’s seriously testing me and leaving me feeling more inadequate than ever. People tell me that’s a normal feeling, but it has me all mopey. I hate to see her so sad. It also has me feeling guilty that I try to accomplish anything else- ever- that doesn’t revolve around her. My life is no longer my own, and that’s still a hard adjustment, because I’m pretty sure it’s not healthy for me to no longer feel like I have an identity, nothing familiar in my own routine. There has to be a way to still be me while stepping into a “mommy” position…right? I thought I’d have that figured out by now.
When your life gets turned upside down almost instantly, you rethink and re-prioritize everything. I do not resent the little girl who needs us, but myself for not figuring this out yet. Then I realize it’s the same thing I keep telling her when she doesn’t get something perfect the first time she tries it (she’s so hard on herself about this): nobody gets anything right the first time; it takes practice and experience, but we just have to keep on trying. How can I expect her to understand this, when I don’t give myself the same benefit?
caverns of my mind 