This morning I wanted to take a shower.
A hot shower. Alone. Blissfully alone, for 10 or so minutes. Just me
and the water and the warmth.
Alas, it was not to be. The moment I
climbed in the three-year-old suddenly realized I was gone. I'd
expect Becky to whine for me, but Reuben? Really?
He made his way into the bathroom.
“Mommy. I want Mommy.” He said, and demanded to get into the
shower with me. I told him I'd be right out and to please go wait
downstairs with daddy. I tried to tell him daddy needed a hug, daddy
needed help making his breakfast, Becky missed him, his toys needed
him, mommy wanted to be alone, please just wait a few minutes...
He started to whine and after a few
seconds his whine turned into a full blown crying tantrum for mommy.
My relaxing shower was not only
accosted by a toddler—it was a sobbing, wretched toddler who
demanded he needed mommy that interrupted my hair washing and toe
cleaning.
I finally got him to go downstairs
where he was apparently so upset to be without mommy for two more
minutes he threw up. When I dressed 3 minutes later, Becky was
crying in the play house where she had been put to keep away from
Reuben's mess, and Reuben was still sobbing for me.
Needless to say, I started the day
heavy with disappointment. I tried to do what I knew was right. I
scooped up Becky, attached her to my boob and let Reuben sit next to
me and tried to calm him by reading books. Eventually he was calm,
Becky was calm, Husband had cleaned Reuben's breakfast off the floor
and left for work, but I was still grumpy.
I want to be alone for just a
minute. I am tired of everyone needing me. This is exhausting.
All true statements. All valid
feelings. But I didn't want our emotionally charged morning to ruin
the rest of my day.
I did yoga.
Becky cried halfway; so I was jangling
toys in her face while forward-folding and singing jingles to her
from downward dog. She made it through my 20 minutes of morning
exercise, and I made it too. Reuben, I might add, was right next to
me either trying to play with his sister or imitate my poses.
Sometime I should film him during my yoga, but honestly I just want
to do yoga and not think about anything else, so I doubt that will
ever happen. It would be funny, tho.
Afterwards I felt a semblance of peace.
God loves me in spite of my whining ways and cranky heart, so I can
love my toddler through his tantrums. I'm learning more and more that
while I can't control my kids or have lonely-shower expectations or
plan (more or less) how the day will go in the emotional sense, I can
control myself. I don't have to yell at him. I don't have to let
moody children control my day. My duty as parent lies in helping my
children navigate their own emotions—and that starts first with my
example. How often I fail at this only they will know, but I will say
I fail often. It is a fault I am sure many parents contend with in
themselves.
To all of you parents wrestling with
the daily tasks of raising young humans, I salute you. It is no easy
feat, especially when you aren't even sleeping through the night.
