The Sour

I felt this part of parenthood deserved a post all on its own. I love my daughter. I'm so blessed to have her in my life. She's at a point in her life where it is difficult for her to express what she's feeling. Her little tantrums are precious, and often times hilarious! But then there's those few times where she's uncomfortable, irritable, tired, yet insatiably curious and alert. These are the sour moments that are quickly forgotten, but that very moment they occur, well, it's REALLY, REALLY tough.

This past weekend, I was much like a single parent. I was instantly grateful for Don and finally realized how much we work in tandem with Mari. It is moments like these that frighten me to have another little one. But some how you get through it. So case in point, we were out to dinner. I was sure to order a tortilla and a little plate of for Mari. She was halfway through her tortilla when she turned into a screaming, biting, throwing, inconsolable little thing. I really don't know what set her off. At that moment, our food arrived, so I put my hand on her head to stroke her hair and calm her down. We were trying our best to direct where to put the food, when her cries were muffled. She turned her face and bit down on my hand. She was like a little vicious animal, clamped down on me and still screaming. Angry tears streamed down her face and it took everything in me to not cry too. I stared around looking for help, but everyone just stared back at me with a knowing look, like they'd been there before. Yep, this is a lesson I need to learn how to deal with, as with Mari, too. Here's a shot of the hand.
At that point, I was spent. I was just hungry, tired, and worndown from the day. I loaded up a little plate of food and that seemed to satisfy her. She didn't really want her rice. She was all about throwing that around. She did, however, want a tamale covered in a small mountain of beans. That seemed to really satisfy her. We left the restaurant and her face was covered with beans. They were in her hair, near her ear, and I didn't even want to look back at the spot where she was sitting. I threw a few extra bills on the table as a tip for the clean up effort that would have to take place. I felt bad.

The next day at the wedding, she did NOT want to be in the church. Granted, it was warm for her, and I actually snuck out at the beginning of the ceremony to let her run around freely. She seemed really pleased to explore about the church grounds. She even found a dandelion that fascinated her. She kicked at it and all of the seeds fell to the ground. She brokedown again, upset that she didn't have seeds to blow. I was amazed that I couldn't find another dandelion around us for her to blow. I comforted her as best as I could, but unsure how I could explain to her that they seeds were gone and I couldn't just put them back on.

There's no better way to feel inadequate than to be a parent. Every day presents a new challenge and because of her, I'm always trying to up the ante, be better for her, know more things, and do my best to be patient during these bitter moments. Because when she calms downs, it's worth it. I glance in my rearview mirror and see her there, with her comfort aides: her dog, her baby, and a paci.
And the scratches, bite marks, and scuffs on my ego will disappear. Especially because she has the face of an angel while she sleeps.
Parenthood really is amazing. Even when I'm tired, arms sore from carrying her nonstop, I must admit that it warms my heart that after a long day, she still reaches out those tiny arms for Momma. And it is Momma that she wants...I'll treasure these moments because I know in the not so distant future, we'll still quarrel, but she won't want to retreat back into my arms. Such is life, though, right. I think that sour will hurt more than these moments I'm experiencing now. *sigh*

I have an even greater admiration for all of the mothers who have gone before me. Thank you for all of those sacrifices. And Momma, thank you for always giving me hugs and refusing to let go, even when I would push away.