Motherhood has not been my friend lately. My oldest child — who I love with all my heart — has been pushing the limits and testing my patience with the dedication of an Olympian. My 1-year-old is in the easy-peasy stage where she can do no wrong, so I am constantly feeling guilty for simultaneously smothering her with kisses while yelling at her older sister.
It’s tough.
But I was reading through my old, old, old posts and came across stories of my oldest child’s incredible sweetness and cuteness as a toddler. Reading about her missteps in learning to speak, sing, roller skate, and play with toys reminded me that I need to stop fretting and enjoy.
And then I came across a post from May 13, 2010 that was indeed meant for me to read again right now at this very moment. I’ll paste it here.
We ended our evening watching an incredibly sad news report about a 4-year-old boy who was abused and died at the hands of his mother and stepfather. The details were awful. We were in tears.
“Let’s go wake up Little Precious and give her a hug,” he said.
So we tip-toed into her room and scooped her from the crib where she was resting peacefully and safely — oh, so safely.
“Hi Sweetie,” we cooed to her. The corners of her mouth turned upwards as she kept her eyes closed in her half awake state. She rested her head on my shoulder and I swayed while I rubbed her back. Then, I passed her off to Daddy, who she snuggled with comfortably, that cute half smile still resting on her lips. We gathered together in a family hug, then reluctantly put her back in the crib, where she immediately snuggled up to her favorite stuffed animal.
As I write this, I sit and wait for her to wake up and greet the day with her usual songs and morning blabber. I can’t wait to go in and scoop her up again, ask her what she dreamed about, read the scriptures with her, try to get her to sit still to say her morning prayer, ward off her first tantrum of the day with a hug and kiss, make breakfast, wipe up her inevitable spills, walk away from her for a minute to take a deep breath when her second major tantrum of the day starts, read her stories, take a walk with her, dry her tears when she cries because I tell her she can’t have any candy, try not to laugh when she tells me that Daddy lets her have candy, and cuddle, cuddle, cuddle.
Because she is mine — and she is precious.
{2-year-old Lydia. Oh my goodness.}
{ 4 comments }
Puts everything in perspective doesn’t it? Good thing to count our blessings on a regular bases so we see the beautiful things we have been given. Even the things that seem hard we must show gratitude for. They are also what helps us become better people. I remember too looking back on days that I thought I would never survive and then be brought up short by some incident or reminder of how truly blessed I was. Thanks for sharing.
At least once a week I have to wake up one of my girls cause I have done a crappy job with them that day. And I have them come sit outside with me and we just talk. Darn these hard phases and we haven’t even really seen what they can do yet….;)
I remember kneeling by the bed of a child that had been difficult during the day and praying for patience and crying softly and asking for forgiveness. It is very humbling to be a parent. I read this once when my family was young and I frequently referred to it as they grew. “If you are having trouble with a child, it’s a sure bet that the child is having trouble with you”. It put things in perspective for me and maybe it will help you to think of it that way.
You write so well. I loved your perspective – thanks for making my day….
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