My Pecky Pledge

Here we are in our new rainsuit, whipping Mommy mercilessly with a limp, wet clematis vine from the compost heap. What fun! Pecky also discovered that you can stamp your feet in puddles today. It was a good day.

But... the surliness continues and I find myself questioning my ability to mother competently. Where has my delicious happy baby gone? The one who smiled for everyone and everything? The world's easiest baby who garnered compliments and smiles wherever we went? In her place, a little elf with endless curiosity and verve, but also a lightning quick temper and a blood-curdling screech. And an insatiable need for teta. It. Never. Ends. She nurses more at 14 months than she did at 4 months. And if I don't whip that boob out the minute she yells for it, there is H-E-L-L to pay, my friends.

I've been mightily embarrassed by LP's carryings-on over the last month. I have hollered and hissed and become enraged mad more times than I care to remember. Well, if I do the math it's simple: every day, at least three times a day, she's screamed/whined/clawed me to the point where I feel like I'm going to lose my shit, so that makes it about... thirty-five instances of bad mommy. Deep breaths only help a little. Bach Flowers seem to help more. Running away forever would probably help a lot but I miss her the minute she's out of my sight. What the fuck am I supposed to do?

It's not all bad. There are moments when she's sleeping peacefully, curled into my armpit. Or when she runs to me, shouting, "MOM! MOM!" Or any of the other hundreds of wonderful things she does everyday that I take for granted. Watching her talk to her little bear as I crouch behind the door, marveling at her imagination play. At the end of the day, I love her more than life itself. I could squeeze her and kiss her beautiful face over and over again. But, the day is more than just its end, and I need to get my shit straight for the other 10 hours of my shift.

I see two things at work here. One, a baby who is teetering on the brink of independence, and is perhaps filled with conflicting emotions about this. Two, my own anger management challenges and feelings of inadequacy. It's hard to feel worthwhile without a completed project to cross off my to-do list. Apparently I need tangible evidence that I've been industrious all day. Even a clean house would do. And it's hard to stay excited about expressing my hopes and dreams through home hygiene. So when the kitchen is wrecked yet again and Pecky's firmly attached to my leg, demanding teta THIS INSTANT! I struggle to maintain integrity of body, mind and spirit. Clearly, I have work to do. But while I hammer out a plan for dispelling anger, I can at least commit to interacting with my baby with greater compassion.

So, instead of whispering to the other moms about how I'm worried that Pecky's a bit too whiny, or rolling my eyes when she cries when another kid messes with her, I'm going try to love my baby for exactly who she is. Not for who I think she should be, or who I am afraid I am not. She is an amazing person and I will strive to honor and support her as she flowers into her own beautiful realization. Damn, I love this baby. I don't know how to balance housework or errands with meeting Pecky's needs right now, but I am hoping that things will fall into place and lead us along a brighter path. Wish me luck!