I can almost hear my mother chuckling right now. There is definitely an “I told you so” or a “payback, baby!” moment happening, and all I can do is shrug, try to smile, and look ahead to 30 years from now when Audrey is writing her own post about raising a beautiful, funny, smart and SPIRITED little girl.
Because I appear to have stumbled into the terrible twenties.
For 19 months, I had the most even-tempered child you’ve ever met. I could, and did, take her everywhere — there were no tantrums, no screams, she would sleep anywhere, she’d be content just playing with a single toy — and I pinched myself nearly every day, wondering how I got so lucky.
Sometimes — and yeah, I know this was probably a jinx — I wished she would actually be a little less calm: I knew she had a big personality, because I’d see glimpses of it when she danced or pet animals at the zoo, and I wanted to see even more. Let’s dance! Let’s jump up and down! Let’s be crazy together!
Everything is a battle. Everything I do seems to be wrong: the way I pour the milk, the way I brush her hair, the mere fact that I want to change her diaper when it’s dirty. Daddy can do the same tasks and get hugs. It’s definitely a mommy-daughter thing.
This week, she had a meltdown so epic and so loud that the daycare director thought she’d injured herself on the way from the car to the classroom (she had not: she just didn’t want me to carry her in or hold her hand lest she get hit by one of the many, many cars zooming by us).
The good news is that while her lows are very, very low…her highs are pretty amazing. She has become so animated — asking me to dance with her or read books; feeding me her snacks and caressing my face while giving me sloppy kisses.
I am having more fun being a mom than ever before, but I’m also feeling more run ragged than ever before. A friend of mine has her own beautiful, funny, smart and SPIRITED little girl and together, we share stories and hugs and look ahead to the days when our independent, strong-willed girls will be running the world.
But somebody please lie to me and tell that my terrible twenties mean that I will avoid the terrible twos and threes.