zoomaru

I’m feeling conflicted today. Guilty. Relieved. Well, mostly guilty, actually.
I feel guilty to be a little relieved to be at work today rather than wrangling a yelly child.

The most interesting stories of parenting are usually the extreme and unusual, which may paint an unrealistic picture of Ruby. She is really so much fun. Silly and playful. She sings a lot, in fact we sing conversations back and forth about using the potty. Mostly she is singing about wanting M&Ms and I’m singing, “pee in the pott-eee and you can have TWOoooooo! Mmmmmmm and Mmmmmmmms” This morning, she turned on some music and asked me to dance – a heart-breakingly sweet thing. But what I often write about here is the yelling and like most kids her age there is lots of yelling sometimes.

And why do I feel guilty? Well, yesterday involved some serious, eardrum-piercing screams. And I got frustrated and impatient. I guess I wish I could be a paragon of patience, an endless well of understanding and fortitude. I’m positive that I contributed to the tantrum with my own stubbornness. We all calmed down and got back to a good place but I still felt guilty and resentful.

I ask myself quite regularly: What kind of parent do I want to be? How do I want my child to see and think of me? What sort of child do I want her to be?

Me? I want to be warm, loving and reassuring, a source of true unconditional love. And I want Ruby to be warm and loving too, and well-mannered and polite. So that means that I have to be firm about some of the rules but flexible when situations warrant it. And I need to figure out how to do this and be a better wife too. I can’t focus so much of my attention on our child that our relationship gets compromised. What a tight-rope!

So back to that first declaration of guilt. Back in the old, non-child days, work was a pain in the ass and I focused way to much time on it and dreaded dragging my sorry butt in on Mondays. Now, sometimes, I’m rather happy to be able to sit in peace and quiet at my desk first thing in the morning. I drink coffee, I read the internet and it’s mellow. There’s no yelling about having a whole waffle rather than this sorry-piece-of-crap cutup waffle.

Ugh. I’ve worked myself up into a lather. I know by this afternoon I’ll miss her like crazy and I’ll melt like sour cream on a hot potato when she wraps her arms around my neck and gives me a “big hug” when she gets home tonight.

Lest you think my girl odious by my previous posts, forthwith, a list of some of the many things I adore about Ruby:

• The big, big smile of hers that lights up the whole room
• Her method of “sneaking” up on her daddy or me “Sneak. Sneak. Sneak.” with little fingers doing little creep motions
• The way she says “I’m all nakee!”
• Her head full of curls
  
• When she cuddles herself up into my arms
• Singing conversations
• Silly voices she uses to sing different songs or say different phrases.
• The way she asks for a “big hog” (when she says this it sounds like the porcine word).
• Racing her across the yard to get a soccer ball.
• Her asking me the names of every single dog or kid we see any where as though I somehow know this.
• Every time she repeats something right out of my mouth.
• The way she sleeps with her little elephant clutched under her chin.

I could go on and on.

I guess I'll keep reminding myself that each day is a new opportunity to live up to my own expectations. Or I’ll take her to the doctor to make sure it’s not an ear infection!