Let me be very clear, I love my son more than anything or anyone. I would decline a date with Jason Momoa for him. I would give up chocolate and wine for him. I would give up my literal life for him. He’s my everything. But that doesn’t mean I have to love every age or every stage. And I certainly don’t love this one. He’s 2 and a half, and currently in the throws of emotional chaos. Major tantrums occur on the daily. They can be over the simplest of things; his milk might be too cold, or I hand him a biscuit from the wrong packet (even though it’s the right packet), or I offer him a sip of water from the wrong cup, or heaven forbid I try to nourish him with food. Any food. Food is apparently sent by the devil. The simple task of leaving the house takes military precision sprinkled with equal amounts of anxiety and tears. I find myself second guessing my ability as a mum; what am I doing wrong? Is it just my kid? Have I stuffed up somewhere? This is tough to admit, but I now actively try my best to avoid social situations. Because I know under no circumstances will I be able to sit down and enjoy myself. I know there will be tantrums. I know he’ll refuse to get into a high chair, or eat, or share toys with the other kids. There are always tears, and we always leave these situations in a blaze of tantruming glory. Most often with an angry toddler stuffed under one arm and a nappy bag, toys, car keys, a water bottle and uneaten snacks under the other. It’s stressfull, it’s exhusting and it feels like it will never end. So I’m wishing it away. And instead I’m wishing for the day that my boy can communicate with me better. The day we can leave the house without a break down. The day we can enjoy outtings together. The day where it’s just not so bloody hard. And I know… every stage and every age has it’s difficulties. But for me, right now, this stage is just… tough. And that’s ok. I’m learning, slowly, that it’s ok. It’s ok to feel defeated. It’s ok to feel overwhelmed. It’s ok to do what works for you. It’s ok to occasionally second guess yourself. Because we are all still learning. And that doesn’t make me a bad mum. It just makes me a mum who is doing her best and figuring it out as she goes. A mum who is navigating this emotional rollercoaster whilst running a house, working, educating, nurturing and holding it all together. And at the end of a very long day, when we are cuddling on the couch watching Bluey. When the house is just that little bit quiter, and our emotions are just that little bit calmer. I know deep down that I’ve nailed it. This whole mum gig. Because he’s thriving. He’s loved. He’s safe. And right now, he still wants his mums hugs. So I must be doing something right. I don’t love this age, but I without question love him. And as they say; this too shall pass.
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