The only thing worse than getting up on the wrong side of bed, is spending the day, with a toddler who woke up on the wrong side of his. Of course, sometimes, we BOTH wake up on the wrong side, which is the very WORST. This can be a particularly frequent occurrence, while living with a tempestuous two-year-old.
On mornings such as these, I'd like nothing more than to jump back into bed (on the right side), pull up the covers and sleep it all off, but, instead, I'm usually summoned, angrily, by Adil, with urgent demands of "milk-in-the-green-sippy-cup-warm-but-not-hot"! "Say please", I ask, feebly. "PLEASE", he barks. And if I have the nerve to mistakenly offer the milk, "too-cold-in-the-blue-sippy-cup" (mostly because my eyes are still half-shut), all hell breaks loose. And by all, I mean ALL.
Yesterday, the blue sippy-cup and all the milk in it, were sent flying across the room, in a fit of fury and we had a time-out, before my first sip of coffee. He emerged from the time-out and whacked me for giving him a time-out and so we had a second time-out, before my second sip of coffee. It wasn't even 7am, yet.
As you can imagine, most of the rest of our day didn't go very well. Tantrum when the TV was turned off. Refused to eat the waffles served for breakfast. Got mad when I changed his diaper. Kicked me. I threatened another time out. I questioned the whole point of time-outs. etc etc etc. I'm aware that none of this reflects particularly well on my parenting skills, or authority, but this is our truth.
Here's what we felt like, yesterday:
But here's what we looked like, on Facebook:
If you actually believed our photographs, you'd think our life was idyllic. That Adil was angelic. And that I was ecstatic. (Okay, that last bit is total overkill, but I needed the rhyme). I love Facebook, unabashedly, for connecting me to my wonderful universe of family and friends. Yet, it does such a great disservice - in encouraging us all to make the rough times look pretty.
I know I do it for many reasons, but mostly because I'm afraid of being judged. Maybe I'm trying to convince myself that my life is happier than it sometimes feels. I also rarely have my camera on me, in the midst of a full-blown, temper tantrum (I'm too busy running for cover). But it's deeply exhausting putting up a front for social media. I wish I could sometimes just say that we had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. How liberating that would be!
On mornings such as these, I'd like nothing more than to jump back into bed (on the right side), pull up the covers and sleep it all off, but, instead, I'm usually summoned, angrily, by Adil, with urgent demands of "milk-in-the-green-sippy-cup-warm-but-not-hot"! "Say please", I ask, feebly. "PLEASE", he barks. And if I have the nerve to mistakenly offer the milk, "too-cold-in-the-blue-sippy-cup" (mostly because my eyes are still half-shut), all hell breaks loose. And by all, I mean ALL.
Yesterday, the blue sippy-cup and all the milk in it, were sent flying across the room, in a fit of fury and we had a time-out, before my first sip of coffee. He emerged from the time-out and whacked me for giving him a time-out and so we had a second time-out, before my second sip of coffee. It wasn't even 7am, yet.
As you can imagine, most of the rest of our day didn't go very well. Tantrum when the TV was turned off. Refused to eat the waffles served for breakfast. Got mad when I changed his diaper. Kicked me. I threatened another time out. I questioned the whole point of time-outs. etc etc etc. I'm aware that none of this reflects particularly well on my parenting skills, or authority, but this is our truth.
Here's what we felt like, yesterday:
But here's what we looked like, on Facebook:
If you actually believed our photographs, you'd think our life was idyllic. That Adil was angelic. And that I was ecstatic. (Okay, that last bit is total overkill, but I needed the rhyme). I love Facebook, unabashedly, for connecting me to my wonderful universe of family and friends. Yet, it does such a great disservice - in encouraging us all to make the rough times look pretty.
I know I do it for many reasons, but mostly because I'm afraid of being judged. Maybe I'm trying to convince myself that my life is happier than it sometimes feels. I also rarely have my camera on me, in the midst of a full-blown, temper tantrum (I'm too busy running for cover). But it's deeply exhausting putting up a front for social media. I wish I could sometimes just say that we had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. How liberating that would be!
Didn't anyone tell you not to buy colour coded sippy cups? buy 3 all the same. better still, steel tumbler. On a day when you are feeling more like your second picture, call me back. On the day that's like the first picture, out source Adil to me. hugs.
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