sometimes it's like this

You are sitting on the dining room floor, shaking your index finger as hard as you can - nose-to-nose with an equally angry toddler. You are saying NO NO NO and she is jabbering back at you, eyebrows furrowed together, lips jutting into a pout, her fingers splayed before her, desperately trying to grab the chair an d push it over backwards.


You are standing on your driveway watching your girl explore the terrain. So far you have stopped her from eating gravel, dead leaves, a cast-off iris bulb, a particularly interesting clod of dirt, and the neighbor's cat. You try to let her learn, but there are some lessons too costly, some things that just shouldn't be done within the mama's eyesight. She sees that you are watching her and she crouches down for a closer look at something wriggling on the ground...


You drive one-handed. The other hand reaching back to her car seat, jiggling her leg - telling her we'll be home soon soon soon, don't fall asleep, don't fall asleep, DON'T FALL ASLEEP! At the traffic light, you turn to assess how deeply she has fallen into an ill-timed nap. A nap that will surely take the place of a much more restful and long nap at home, in her own bed. Her head is dropped to the right. Her fingers still clutching the bright blue radio you tossed to her ten minutes ago in a vain hope that she would fight dreamland to keep playing. If you could only reach the handle---- maybe you could---- start up the music---- get her to wake up---- and as you fail to grasp the radio, the light changes and you turn back to the business at hand: driving home.


You are rushing through the family room as your little girl naps fitfully upstairs. You have ten minutes to get this room in shape before something else needs your attention: cat, phone call, dishes, checkbook, email, laundry. There are broken bits of cracker underfoot and you do your best to gather up the biggest pieces with your fingers. The rest will have to wait until later, when the little one is awake and fully able to be terrified of the vacuum cleaner. You're a kind mother that way.


You are playing with her blocks. By yourself. It was supposed to be a joint venture, but after a million grunts and waves and tugs on the bag that houses the blocks---- when you finally relented and pulled them out to play, your little one took one look at the blocks and decided that the fistful of discarded cat hair she eyed in the screen door was MUCH more entertaining.


You are doing everything you can to be helpful, to be patient, to be the kind of mama that she wants to run and kiss. The kind of mama who understands that it's not easy being a toddler. The kind of mama you really truly want to be. But sometimes, sometimes it's more like this.