I love my daughter dearly and it breaks my heart to see her so out of sorts. I feel guilty for my part in it. I'm so out of sorts myself that she's picking up on it and acting out. She's also at the stage where she has opinions (and strong ones) but isn't able to express herself clearly. Her frustration quickly boils over into screaming. And throwing. And telling me off in no uncertain terms.
Power struggles ensue on the daily. Every morning starts out promising. An hour into the day I'm staring at this precious little one in front of me wondering where the hell my sweet BB went and what on God's green earth I'm doing wrong.
Everything is a fight, and I mean everything. Getting dressed. Not throwing her toys. Leaving the TV alone. Leaving the dog alone. Every time I leave the room she strips her brother naked, even if it was only for 30 seconds. Brushing her teeth results in a full-on molecular meltdown.
She won't eat. I'm guessing this is the result of pesky 2 year molars starting to move around, but I'm not entirely sure. BB gets hungry and bitchy, but barely manages a mouthful before she tells me she doesn't want it and either throws her plate or feeds it to the dog. Sitting at the table to eat? Sadly, not happening. We used to sit at the table for dinner every night as a family; it's all but impossible now.
So mealtimes are a nightmare. Preparing, cooking and serving said meals can reduce me to tears. Especially when both kids are crying and need me and I'm frantically trying to get a meal to the table only to have two noses turn up at it (my husband and daughter's). I eat when I can, usually standing at the counter or on the run.
I knew taking care of BB and her infant brother was going to be madly and terribly busy, but it's not how I expected. There are moments of pure chaos where all the world is going to pieces and both kids are screaming for me; I fantasize about running away. There are moments of blissful peace where BB is content and we can play without meltdowns while the baby either watches or sleeps.
I knew being a stay at home mom was going to be hard at times, but it's getting ridiculously difficult. Today I told Patrick that I'd had enough and I want to go back to work. He thought I maybe need some extra help with the household chores. It's not the chores though. I don't find laundry, dishes, cleaning or making meals all that difficult. It's doing those things around the kids' needs that gets difficult. It's hard to clean (or do much of anything) with a hungry baby in your arms and a screaming miserable toddler hanging off your leg.
Having an extremely difficult day with BB translates into me staying up late to finish chores that didn't get done during the day. Then I stay up even later to get some blessed alone time where no one is touching me or demanding of me or needing me for something. According to my highly intelligent intensive googling, this is known as being 'touched out'. That sounds vaguely dirty to me, but right on point.
I know this is just a rough patch we're going through. This too shall pass.