Friday, August 6, 2010
Hendrix has had a few rough days this week. All of a sudden my normally very sweet boy was a total hellion. Throwing temper tantrums (um Hai you are 9 months...not 2 years kid, I am NOT ready) and being super clingy.
I usually measure how good a day was by how much Henry laughed. Life doesn't always permit me to focus every day around him and while I cherish the days where we are at the museum and playground and naps are taken in nice cool beds and end with cozy bath times...well, things just don't always work out like that.
So laughter is what I go by. Even if we are in line at the bank for a half hour or stuck running errands for most of the day as long as he is giggling and happy then I feel accomplished.
So when we were on like day 3 of minimal laughing I was ready to tear my hair out.
and this is so cliche but...
I was feeling like a total failure.
Blaming myself and getting all anxious that it was me or something I was doing. I laid awake at night stressing that I was no longer keeping Hendrix happy or that maybe I had screwed his sleeping schedule up or maybe he wsn't getting enough calories or nutrients from his diet. I read up on more ways to "stimulate you child at nine months" and researched classes to take him to since obviously I was boring and he was done with me and I needed to make him happy again ASAP, right now, like yesterday.
After a particularly unlaughable day we were driving home and Hendrix was flippin...I mean screaming from the backseat. Those awful, full sobs, can't catch his little breath sobs, and it was kind of breaking my heart.
So I said F it. I pulled over. I didn't care about getting us home late or that it was dinner time or who was around. I pulled over, yanked the kid out of his seat, and nursed him till his hearts content. The light was that nice 5 o'clock gooey, warm glow that lights up his golden locks and he twirled my hair and was finally content.
But as we all know..
when it comes to the mini humans...
nothing is content for long
while putting him in his seat he started to scream again.
SO I bust out the big guns and hand him a little food container he loves and started making silly faces and singing and sure enough there they were...
Big rolling giggles
head tipping back
mouth wide open...
and wouldn't ya know it...
poking through his bloody, swollen little gums was the tip of a top tooth.
He had been teething. It wan'ts me. Of course it wasn't ME.
duh. duh. duhhhhy. duh. duh.
I was so quick to judge myself and blame my mothering skills (which uh HELLO I rock at being a Mama. Not to toot my own horn But TOOT MUTHA LICKERS TOOT)) and why? I can still make that little bugger laugh when he has a bloody mouth and aching jaw.
I am sure my days of self doubting my mothering are not over. Human nature it is. However I need to take it easier on myself. Babies cry. That's what they do. Attempting to make every day all rainbows and sunshine is ridiculous and futile.
No longer will I measure days in laughter but by how hard I tried. If I am putting in the effort than I think I deserve a gold star.
Even if Hendrix pooped, cried, peed, slobbered, drooled, and tantrumed his way through the day.