Highs & Lows

You know I like to think that I have what they call, perspective. Most of the time, I feel like I can see the forest from the tress, the bigger picture, the whole story, and any other cliche that relates. (Who knows if that is true and my husband may disagree because I give him whiplash when I bounce from obsessing over the dirtiest toaster oven EVER to freaking out about the fact that the shoes go IN THE SHOE RACK. But moving on.)

Where was I again? Oh yes, perspective. *chin scratching, deep in thought looking emoji* Particularly toddlerhood perspective. For example I usually can reason with myself thinking, yes, I know she is having another tantrum but she is not even two and cannot process her emotions so this is just how she is communicating. Or yes, she is spilling yet another glass of water on purpose, but that is just because she is learning cause and effect. Perspective.

But yesterday, I was perspective-light. My perspective tank was on empty. Forget about the forest from the trees. I was looking at the leaves on the trees. No, I was focused on the chlorophyll in the cells on the leaves on the trees. Perspective and I were not seeing eye-to-eye.

We had some serious lows yesterday. And I was convinced that she was trying to torture me into submission. But because I am the eternal optimist with a splash of realism, we did have some highs that cannot (and should not) be forgotten.

For the lows.

We are dealing with some tough family stuff, so Emma and I headed to daily mass yesterday because I needed to get my prayer on. I always feel like I pray better in a pew, ya dig? Emma was mostly well-behaved but was determined to do a runner after communion. I am big on waiting until church is actually over to leave, but she wanted out. First clue.

Right after church, I headed to Panera because it was Bagel Tuesday (13 bagels for 7 bucks!!!) and she would. not. listen. I was hoping it was an isolated 15 minutes of crazy but NOPE.

We started with a full on flailing tantrum in the middle of the street. I was holding my huge purse/diaper bag and a bag of bagels and trying to hold her hand and it was a shit show. I am still not supposed to be lifting anything heavy but I had to do the pick her up by her torso while she did the kicking and punching the air maneuver so I could remove her from the surrounded by moving vehicles situation. She then arched her back trying to avoid the car seat and I was sweating.

When we got home, oh that's where the real fun began. She poured out an entire orange carrot puree pouch on our grey couch. And then smeared it in while looking at me. And smiling. She dumped her water out on the floor and couch. For the third time. Everything that we normally say no to (due to the mess factor or the safety factor) was her oyster. Climbing on the desk, check. Ripping off her diaper, yup. Pouring water on her clothes, roger that. 

I hate to say I lost my cool a few times, but I did. After we both had a little time out. I calmly tried to explain to her why I was upset and she looked at me like this.

Look at all her care. 

Then she hit me. And showed no remorse thus.

I needed wine. And it was only 10am. And I cannot drink a whole bottle of wine in my current state. WHAT. 

After she was done making mess number one million. I calmed down in the kitchen and made some funnel cake. Mostly so I could have a vehicle to shovel powdered sugar into my face hole. 

Emma liked it too.

Now for the highs because there are a few, even on my perspectiveless day.

My mom told me that Emma and this new baby (who she has nick named Data, from Star Trek) are joys to the family and are the light in the darkness, which of course made me cry like a big baby and my mom is just the best.

We went to the park so she could get out her wiggles and so I could kill some time before nap (towards which I was counting down the seconds). And she did something rather impressive. At least to me.

She went on the big girl slide all by herself. She just marched up those stairs and did the thing like it was no big deal. Just a little while ago she would scream bloody murder if I tried to go down with her and now she owns that jungle gym. 

I was impressed.

And at the end of the day to end on a high note (which on some level I think she knew I desperately needed), she went into bed promptly at 8:30 and went right to sleep with no fighting. Whew. 

Oh motherhood, you be crazy.