What is there to say?

All day Wednesday I was writing a blog post in my head about how I hate being Moira’s mother right now. It pains me to admit that but it was true. It was one of the worst days ever and I felt like I could do nothing right. She was screaming and yelling before she got out of bed that morning. During breakfast she was yelling at me to go outside and when I finally managed to get her dressed and downstairs (which took hours) she flew into hysterics about staying home.

“Moira stay home!” She screamed repeatedly as she threw herself on the floor.

So I would close the door.

“Open the door! Open the door! Moira outside!” She would scream as she threw herself at the door, contagion face turning red, view body rigid.

Rinse. Repeat.

Finally I just carried her back upstairs and let her be hysterical somewhere (hopefully) the neighbours couldn’t hear.

My parents arrived about 20 minutes later to witness what I have been trying to describe the last couple weeks. Is this normal 2-year old behaviour they asked? They didn’t know what to do as they watched Moira scream and rage and so my Dad just hugged me while I sobbed on his shoulder. This, I said to them, is my life lately.  They wanted to help but there is no calming Moira until she has screamed herself out. So I made lunch and she came around and was her usual sweet self to her grandparents for a while. There were more tantrums in store for us that day though – many more.

There are times when I feel so beaten down I say rather drastic things that I don’t mean but it’s a coping mechanism – like when the Mister comes home and I tell him that there is no dinner but I didn’t kill myself so today is still a win. I say: I don’t want to have children ever. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t pregnant so I could go get a job and put Moira in daycare and let someone else deal with her.

I’ve been staying away from the computer recently because I don’t want to only write about how freaking awful life can be with this child at times. On the other hand, had I written the post on Wednesday it would probably have been some of the most honest writing I have done in a long while because it wouldn’t have been coloured by a couple good days and the discovery (this evening) of one of her two-year molars peeking its way through her swollen gums (please, let this be the reason for our misery). And I did take her to the doctor to make sure she isn’t in pain anywhere (we worry about ears in this family since the Mister had an infection as a child that left him deaf on one side).

Instead of writing I have been knitting a little sweater for Sprig to make up for the constant anxiety in my stomach that he/she is having to live with. I’ve been reading Harry Potter to escape and trying to get out of the house two nights a week to save my sanity. People keep assuring me this is normal behaviour and someone told the Mister at work that this is “make it or break it” time with your child and that has really stuck with me. So I am trying hard to just ride this wave and be there for her while she levitates over her bed, head turned backwards, screaming obscenities at me.

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