It’s 4:13am when I’m jolted awake. It wasn’t the sound of my alarm that woke me, although I had set it for 4:15am the night before. These early hours before the world awakes are supposed to be mine to think, write, and get things done. Those hours are priceless. I use those hours hungrily because there’s no other time of day where the house is silent and I’m ready to use my brain.
But I’ve been scrambling to get any morning time to myself lately. My wake up time used to be 5am. But then Evie started getting up at 5:30. Each time I would move my waking time earlier, she would get up earlier. It’s like her internal clock senses me or something. There’s no way she hears me get up. I’m too far away from her room.
On this day at 4:13am, 2 minutes before my alarm goes off, I was woken up by the terrible shrills of my two-year-old daughter, Evie, from her bedroom doorway. She was stuck there, pissed off because she was held back by the baby gate I placed in the doorframe the night before.
Along with her early morning wakings, Evie had also started waking in the middle of the night (midnight-2am), wandering the house. She hadn’t hurt herself or gotten into anything YET, but the danger was there. So, I gated her in. I’d rather treat her like a zoo animal than have her roam around the house and risk her getting hurt. I know the parenting books don’t all agree with this method but as a mom, I must make choices sometimes that are against expert advice. Experts aren’t living my life, I am.
I walked up to her doorway, already annoyed. Did this child know I set my alarm for 4:15? Did she smell my plans somehow!? She stood there in her Paw Patrol PJ’s, hair wild and her face crinkled up in tears, oblivious to my annoyance. Feeling my morning “me time” slip away, I picked her up and tried to soothe her back to sleep.
Two hours. I spent 2 hours in her room doing my best to get her back to sleep. Nursing her, laying her back into her pack in play, putting my hand on her back, giving her stuffed animal after stuffed animal, tucking her in 30 times to make sure the blanket covered her feet, laying in her big girl bed to see if that would make her fall asleep.
But nothing.
After two hours, I was standing over her pack in play as she yelled at me to find her “buddy” stuffed animal among the 40 stuffed animals in her bed and I felt myself give way a bit. Like when the little girl shakes and squeezes the unicorn in Despicable Me and says, “it’s so fluffy!” They call it love or cute aggression. Where you love something so much that you must squeeze and shake it. I felt that with Evie at this moment. But her cuteness wasn’t overpowering me. At that moment my love for her was battling with my need to make her STOP this shit and go TF to sleep.
The Abused Shark
I had to release this aggression. I grabbed the closest stuffed animal in my reach – a huge squishy baby shark. I shoved that shark face down into that mattress way rougher than I had to. Like shoving a dog’s face into the poop they decided to leave on your carpet. But I was still boiling. And I immediately felt guilty for this outburst even though Evie didn’t seem to notice. I didn’t have to be rough with baby shark. I let that guilt sway my decision to make her stay in bed until the sun came up.
After those two hours, I finally gave up. The sun was still not shining but this day with Evie had apparently begun.
Evie was a red-eyed beast for the rest of the morning, and I was not my best mom-self. She continued to test my patience at every turn. Whining, crying, throwing things. Being 2 basically. And I was angry at her. I know that’s not right. But a part of me was. I’m not just her mom. I’m a person with plans and goals and a desire to have a bit of me time. It was frustrating to lose it. Moms don’t typically say these things but I’m saying them because I know I not the only one.
Great moms lose their shit. We get pushed to the edge and must bring ourselves back again. It doesn’t mean we don’t love our kids with every speck of our soul. It doesn’t mean we will hurt our kids. It just means we are human. We sometimes come to that edge of sanity, look over, and then pull ourselves back because we have the strength to do so.
Tears Over Cheese
It was now 9:27am and I was standing in the kitchen, making her mac and cheese. Because if my two-year-old wanted a steak at this time, I probably would have made it for her. The time it was taking me to prepare this gourmet meal was apparently too long for my toddler. Evie climbed up on the countertop and yelled for her “cheese.”
And at the moment, the events of the morning caught up to me. Whatever control I had had up until this point, melted like the creamy packet of orange cheese I was holding in my hand.
I stopped squeezing the foiled packet into the bowl.
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and cried.
I cried, but I didn’t sob. It was more like I pushed all my emotions through my eyes and felt the tears pop out like a hand that had been stuck in a sleeve for too long. I cried and prayed in my head for my Aunt Mary to come and give me patience. To calm my heart and mind. To give me a hug because at that moment, that’s all I needed. Well, that and maybe a nanny.
Tears slowly ran down my face. My toddler was not at all impressed seeing her mom silently lose her shit. She still wanted her damn mac and cheese.
But those tears helped me. I released the tension that was building in my body. I wasn’t fully healed, and I didn’t forget the past 5 hours I spent that morning with my terrible two toddler. But I was a little bit lighter.
Lighter enough to push forward. To pick up my crazy daughter and kiss her soft little cheek. To push aside the fact that my morning was shot. My hope of hours of productivity was eliminated. But at least I was here, with her.
And that’s not too terrible at all.
I love your honesty and as I read what you have written, I am feeling every bit of your frustration. However, I think my Mac and cheese would have ended up at the wall, the ceiling and the door!!
Don’t feel bad, all mothers have moments of frustration,. You actually kept your cool. Bless you but knowing these times will repeat themselves, just being human,.