Confident

I've been trying to see my daughter, not as a little one who's acquired a master's degree in the terrible twos but instead, as an individual. Yesterday as I turned the soil and bits of veggies, fruits, and plant matter that make up our compost pile, this little one showed a huge interest in what I was doing. I gloved her up and gave her the task of pulling out the small roots from weeds and those belonging to a very territorial hydrangea plant. She dove right in, excitedly skimming though handfuls of moist soil.

A moment arose when I encountered a large root from that territorial plant, it selfishly extending this part of its body deep through the heart of my compost pile. I grabbed it with both hands and began to pull, and pull, and pull. Being the kind and helpful little girl that she's become, she came up behind me, placed her two little hands on my waist and pulled with all her strength.

I imagined what this might look like, this little one's tiny hands clamped around her mama. I thought about the expression on her face, the exhaustion and determined look painted across her face as she tiredly exercised all her energy into each significant pull.

 We were able to pull that stubborn root up.

The other night was discouraging. I typed terrible twos into the search engine desperate to find some answers. Some remedy or some little bit of knowledge that would bring some clarity and revive my spirit from its uneasiness. I found an article that mentioned that these (very annoying) outbursts of emotions are normal. That they happen because the child has discovered his/her confidence.

Though I am not entirely amused by the tantrums, the famous limp-noodle body that's become so routine, it makes me so happy to think that my little one is becoming a confident little girl!

Tomorrow

It's late and I'm tired. My spirit feels heavy and weary, the lingering thought that tomorrow could very well resemble today. This phase is getting the best of me, leaving me at times with a sense of defeat. I'm exhausted and I'm overwhelmed. But as I sit here typing away, my eyes heavily burdened by love-filled tears, I am hopeful. Hopeful that tomorrow will be a new day, bringing new opportunities, new strides, and some progress. Bare with me, sweet girl. I love you.

This phase

We've been treading water. Trying desperately to keep our heads above a sea of anger and frustration and self-blame. A sea that has since swiped up our little girl from a shallow and sandy perch, dunking her down deep into the dark abyss of the terrible twos. We're struggling along the fine lines of when and how to discipline. Defining those things considered unacceptable.We are not natural swimmers. And sometimes it feels as though we're drowning. Other days feel like today...

When early mornings start earlier than normal. The night sky, still deep and dark and quiet.Our sleep disturbed by the soft cries of our teething babe. She snuggles up, desperate to find the sweet spot between our pillows and in my arms. And it's okay.

Mornings when the only thing on my mind is driving the seven odd blocks in anticipation of the look on this little girl's face when I come through the front door. When I get an unexplained feeling deep down in my gut- I just need to be near her. Mornings when my heart longs for words of affirmation. Of hope. And courage. Reminding me that this stage is only a phase and as my father used to preach, This too, shall pass. And it's so true.

As she sits deep in suds, morning sun spilling onto the bathroom floor, I sit deep in thought. Meditating on what I hope to make of today. What I hope to obtain. How I want to love her. I take in each hopeful and perfectly woven sentence of this song, allowing it to speak to my tired heart, reassuring me that this phase is only temporary. Affirming that we are making progress. That with this stage comes growth and communication and a better understanding of who she is and who I've become as a parent.

 We're emphasizing please and thank-you, bearing through the sobs and fountains of tears which flow from her big browns. We've learned patience and love. We're learning to give direction and instruction, applauding her in her successes, even when it is only because she managed to eat every piece of unwanted food on her plate.

 We take pride in our ritualistic bedtime routine-both parents and lots of love, realizing that no matter how rough our day can be, we can always end them positively. We ask for peace. For patience. For understanding. For self-control. But most of all, we ask that we continue to act with love.

Uncharted Waters - First Edition

The uncharted waters of the terrible twos have been about more than the rogue waves of public temper tantrums. They have been about development. Independence. Spontaneous bouts of affection and a sensitive, comforting spirit.

I'll touch more on the other aspects later, but for now I just want to say that I am a proud mother. In the past two years, there have been countless times where I've sat and wondered if we're raising our daughter right. If by raising her, from what may as well be a state away from our family, will she be confident? Self-assured? Will she believe that she is worthy of everything that life has to offer and more? I've wondered if raising her without religious foundations but teaching her to love and be compassionate, will that be enough? Can she grow to be good and do good and to love all equally? Will she make the right choices?

I've seen a glimpse of a product of hope. And I am proud.

My hand-me-down cold took a turn for the worse when my ear became stuffed up to the point where I couldn't hear. Pros and cons, let me tell you! It turns out, it is only an ear infection, but a severe one at that. This morning after getting home from work, I felt horrible. Nauseated, cold, feverish, and dizzy. Desperate to be taken care of.

I was reassured that everything would be fine. Lola looked at me with those big browns and said, "Mommy sick." Did I mention that I love that she calls me mommy now? She came over and stuffed a variety of her plastic fruits and vegetables under my blanket, for nourishment of course, each time covering me up and patting my back softly and slowly. This little gesture, the affection and thought behind it, came through with her big, comforting spirit.

She's turning into a good little human.

Calm seas ahead!