A few of the days last week and weekend were very trying for me. Nothing in particular. Just trying. It’s not like I was cooped up, or the days were extra long or anything … in fact, we had my SIL for a few days and spent the weekend BBQing and sitting around the campfire with our best friends, so if anything, the days were more exciting and the time flew by faster. But Eva has started into this annoying screamy stage lately and it’s so so exhausting. Like I mentioned in a post last week, meal time is getting a little ridiculous. And this new cry/scream has weaseled its way into other (read: all) areas of her life, as well. The older she gets, the more ideas, opinions, thoughts and feelings she seems to have (the nerve!) and without an ability to clearly communicate these things to me, she goes from zero to screamy in 2.0 seconds flat.
Saturday morning was particularly difficult and screamy. Evan left the house super early in order to try to be home earlier, and I was finding myself nearing the end of my rope too quickly. By 9:00 I was wondering if it was bedtime yet. And this was 9:00 in the morning, people. I was feeling down on myself and had to pull back tears more than once. We went for an early morning walk and I found myself pleading with God to give me what I would need to get through the day without losing my ever loving mind. It was one of those days where I got to feeling like I’m just not patient enough, not strong enough, not selfless enough, not equipped enough – just all together not enough for this crazy thing we call parenting.
By Sunday morning I was spent. But thankfully, a morning of worship (which included a great sermon that I was actually able to listen to thanks to the wonderful nursery workers at church), an early afternoon nap, a few hours out running errands with my family (Costco, say what?) and a movie night snuggled up on the couch with my hubby was enough to cure my woes. I must say, that part of the cure was definitely having Ev tell me that I could do whatever I wanted for the afternoon and he would be on baby duty if I needed to get away.
As I crawled into bed that night – knowing that when I woke up it would be a new week, and a new month, in fact – I thought to myself how this stage that seems difficult to deal with is just a tiny blip in the big picture.
Soon, I’ll forget about this challenge and will be faced with entirely new, equally, or perhaps more difficult challenges.
I’ll forget about this. Just like how I’ve already forgotten what it felt like to be uncomfortably pregnant in the heat of the summer. And how it felt to be covered in baby spit up while nursing a newborn around the clock. What it felt like to have a gassy baby who just couldn’t get comfortable. How it felt to walk and bounce and shush and walk and bounce and shush during the witching hours of the evening. Each stage goes by so quickly. And I forget so quickly.
The days can be so long. The difficulties can make feel insignificant and ill equipped. Being a mom can wear me down until I am raw. And, sometimes, it feels like forever. But it’s not. It’s just a blip. A blip that I’ll look back at and long for.