When to push

A image has been in my head a lot lately. It's a snapshot from the first few months of the girls' lives. I couldn't get either of them settled and I hadn't slept more than three hours in a row in weeks. My nerves were so raw that I was ready to walk out the door and not look back. I ended up pouring myself a Guinness, grabbing a bar of chocolate, and settling them each on a breast. I sat there tandem feeding them for almost two hours, silently crying most of the time as drank my beer and ate my chocolate.

I remember thinking: this has got to get better.

And of course it has. I regularly sleep seven to eight hours, the girls play for long stretches together, and they are old enough to go to school. I can do things like blog and clip my toenails and shower everyday. But the raw nerves, they're still there.

This week we've been home potty training and by today I could have powered a city block off of my nervous energy. Little did I know that those hard moments when they were babies were going to be the easy ones. I could still meet their needs, do everything for them, shape their world for them. I could imagine their emotions and make them happy with the simplest things.

Now we struggle with each other and I watch the emotions storm across their faces. I know their limitations and I see them fight against them. My heart breaks for Desmonda. I watched the pee puddle around her feet today and her look of surprise. I struggle to control myself when she poops the minute after I let her off the potty. I hold her and reassure her that she will get it, reassure myself that she will.

I never know when to push, when to make allowances. I expect too much but worry about expecting too little.

And in this, I don't know where to turn. I don't have friends close enough here that I can cry over it to. And I haven't kept up the friendships I've made in past cities with all the stress here. I feel out of place in special needs forums because the girls are so close to "normal" that I feel like a fraud. But the standard advice just doesn't work.

So I close the bathroom door and cry out of sight of the girls. I call my husband and my sister in law and ask them to tell me I am doing the right thing. I drink a glass of wine at four and remember that this too will pass. And I hug my daughter and tell her I love her and how proud I am of her.

Arguing With An Almost Three Year Old

Desmonda Drama's oratorical skills may be lacking some vocabulary but she more than makes up for that in her tenacity. She is going to rock those backseat battles with Calamity Jane some day. Until then she just has me to argue with and she always wins.

A sample of today's throwdowns:

The Scene: I attempt to put her shoes on so we can all go to the gym.

Desmonda: I want a hat.
Me: Okay honey let me just get your shoes on and I will get you your rain hat to go with your raincoat.
Demonda: I want a hat.
Me: I know you want a hat honey, let me just get your shoes on.
Desmonda: I want a hat.
Me: First shoes, then hat.
Desmonda: Want. A. Hat.
Me: I understand you honey, I know you want a hat. And I will get you a hat as soon as I am done with your shoes.
Desmonda: Want a hat, want a hat, want a hat. HAT!!!!
Me: Fine, here's your hat. Now can I put your shoes on?

The Scene: We have made it into the car and are driving to the gym. Somehow I have been suckered into buying them a snack from the vending machine every time we go.

Desmonda: Pretzels at the gym!
Me: Yes baby I am going to get you some pretzels at the gym.
Demonda: Pretzels at the gym.
Me: I promise you, we will have pretzels when we get to the gym.
Desmonda: Want pretzels at the gym now.
Me: We're not at the gym honey, we're in the car. I don't have any pretzels.
Desmonda: Pretzels!!!
Me: Desmonda, I told you we would get them at the gym, are we at the gym?
Desmonda: Yes.
Me: Really, we're at the gym? The car is the gym?
Desmonda: Yes, want pretzels.
Me: At the gym.
Desmonda: Pretzels!
Me: At the gym.
Desmonda: Pretzels!
Me: At the gym.
Desmonda: Pretzels!
Me: At the gym.
Desmonda: Pretzels!
Me: At the gym.
Desmonda: Pretzels!
*I bang my head into the steering wheel.*

The Scene: Desmonda rolls up with her stuffed MingMing in the stroller and hands me a giant pile of tangled Mardi Gras necklaces.

Desmonda: Want necklace for MingMing.
Me: Okay honey.
*I untangle a necklace and hand it to her*
Desmonda:
*throws necklace on ground, it is obviously not good enough for a stuffed duck from the Most Annoying Show Ever. How could I not know this?*
Want necklace for MingMing.
Me: How about this one?
Desmonda: Okay! (this is a favorite trick, saying "Okay" like it was your idea to give her what she wants)
Me: Okay honey.
*I untangle a necklace and hand it to her*
Desmonda: Want necklace for MingMing.
*I untangle a necklace and hand it to her, repeat ten times*
Me: Honey, don't you think MingMing has enough necklaces? I can't even see her anymore.
Desmonda: Want necklace for MingMing.
Me: When is your dad getting home?
Desmonda: Want necklace for MingMing.
Me: Want to watch Sesame Street?
Desmonda: Okay!

Bad Mom Moment #1

In the spirit of honesty that motivates this blog, I plan to share my bad mom moments. And though this only the first on this blog, be assured it is not the first I have had.

Bad Mom Moment #1: Put Desmonda down without Motrin even though she is running a fever. I just knew she would take forever to fall asleep if I gave it to her (yes I have one of the five children in the world who gets more active when given pain reliever) and I couldn't take another afternoon of trying to get her to sleep (which hello child, you're sick- NAP!).