Ever had one of those days (mornings, afternoons, evenings, anytimes) when you question your ability to be a good mom? Mine arrived this morning, neatly gift wrapped in the form of a newly minted one year old and a tantrum of epic proportions. Arched back, gritted teeth and wailing that sounded like it should come from a wild animal. I powered through and managed to get her dressed, fed and cleaned up all done with maximum effort. Back and forth this dance went, all morning long. Small hands came flying towards my face and hair. Body, willing itself from my arms. Sippy cup was chucked at me and my baby girl laid herself on the ground and cried for no apparant reason other than it was Monday morning.
Meanwhile, I'm breaking out in a sweat trying to remain calm on the outside. An internal dialogue sounded something like this, "You're an adult and she's a child. Keep it together. Don't lose it. This is normal, all kids do this. She's just a baby." Deep yoga breaths kept me going and before long, there was quiet. I look and see angry, fat tears rolling down her chubby cheeks. Her arms outstreched and her small body lunging towards me, accompanied by a plaintive "mama". I reached down and picked her up - she placed her head on my shoulder and sighed. It was over.
Maybe I'm not such a bad mom afterall.
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