So Happy I Could Scream

To live with a toddler is to experience a carnival of human emotions, a carnival where you jump from the corndogs to the funnel cakes to the ferris wheel to the bumper cars to the infuriating midway games in the time it takes to say, “Mama, No, No!” Gracie can go from blissful to despondent in about two nanoseconds. Really, this is no surprise to me, or Steve, and if you’ve ever lived with a toddler or been in the same state with one, it’s probably not any surprise to you either. What is a bit of a shock to me, and probably more so to Steve, is that my emotions are running about the same gambit in about the same timeframe. There are times lately when I’m sure that Steve feels like he’s living a bad remake of The Three Faces Of Eve, or perhaps some kind of 21st century rendition of Mommy Dearest where the heroine (or villainess depending on your take) turns her trigger temper onto her husband instead of her children.

Here’s the thing: I am happier than I have ever been in my life. I am also more grief-stricken, exhausted, terrified, and temperamental than I have ever been in my life. And I know the source of all of these emotions comes from the absolute love I have for my apple-cheeked daughter. I love her with a fierceness that I have never, ever known. True love has always been a part of my life. My parents showered me with love and I love and respect them. I love my sister the way only a big sister can love a little sister who shares her hopes and dreams and her memories of the past. I am blessed with friends who love me despite my flaws and my lapses (sometimes months) in communication. And Steve, well to say I love Steve is just an understatement. He is my partner and my friend and without him in my life, I would be lost. But even that love is different than the love I feel for Gracie.

You know what I’m talking about, that visceral love that comes from somewhere deep inside you that fills your heart to the point of explosion. It’s the only love I’ve ever felt that filled me with such joy and such terror at the same time. Of course there’s that constant nagging fear that I am going to make a misstep in this motherhood gig and do something that might injure, maim, or possibly kill this perfect little creature that was given to me. But, as she starts to develop a personality (read, a temper), I’m starting to worry less about failing to protect her and more about failing to encourage her. Am I reading to her enough? Am I giving her the tools she needs to be a kind, responsible citizen of this world? Am I exposing her to enough new experiences (and, no, I don’t think new episodes of Wiggles fulfills this requirement, although Gracie might disagree)?

Love and worry are my meat and potato emotions, the ones that are there pretty much every day (definitely no vegetarians in this family). It’s the Cajun spices of my emotions, the anger, the sadness, and the skip through the sprinkler bliss, that are the ones that pop up at the least expected times, the ones can either co-exist or appear independently of each other, that intrigue me and probably drive Steve close to thinking about joining that monastery that I suggested last week….

Melancholy can strike me any time now. I’ve always been a Hallmark Commercial Crier (you know what I’m talking about, don’t pretend you don’t), but lately, the sight of a sick child on TV, or a sad child in the grocery store, or a lonely child on the playground, crushes my heart as surely as if a gorilla were sitting on it. I read somewhere that once you become a mother, you become a kind of mother to all children. That may be part of it, but I think my sadness is more selfish than that “It takes a Village” concept. I see Gracie in every child. Oh, that sad, lonely child could be my precious baby – what if she’s all by herself on the playground one day and no one will talk to her and my eyes just fill with threatening tears….

But, of course, there are times when my tears of sadness change to tears of frustration and anger. I’ve struggled lately with losing my patience with Steve, with work, and most importantly, with Gracie. Why did I handle the infant phase so well, but now I’m struggling so much with this toddler stuff? I’ve come to the realization that a lot of it has to do with my juggling act. No, I didn’t join the circus, but I feel like my life resembles one sometimes. Working and motherhood, coupled with a husband in school and working part time leaves little time for other pursuits. I’ll be honest – there are times I miss spending an evening scrapbooking or sewing or visiting with friends on the telephone or at a restaurant. I wouldn’t change any part of my life for anything – I know how incredibly lucky I am! So, sometimes I get frustrated when there’s just not enough hours in the day or when Gracie decides to pick the day that we’re running late for everything to try and put on her own socks and shoes and no amount of cajoling her into letting me help works. “No, Mama, schocks on!”

Sometimes, though my temper rears its ugly head because Gracie does things intentionally. When she was an infant and spit up or pooped on me, I had all the patience in the world. Now, when she throws peaches at me or hits me deliberately, I sometimes feel my patience dripping to the floor with the juice from the peaches. All perfectly natural I know, and I don’t think I was one of those people that really thought, “No, not MY child. Mine will never do that”, but I’m sure that at some point in some checkout line somewhere, I thought to myself rather arrogantly that I would never tolerate such behavior in my offspring. Yes, pride definitely goes before a fall! When Gracie is throwing herself on the floor in the grocery store and the mother of an infant looks at me with the same look I’m sure I threw at people only a year ago, I want to tell her, “Yep, here’s your crystal ball – this my friend is your not too distant future!”

I have decided that Gracie and I are both going through the same kind of emotional turmoil. We are both struggling with intense emotions that neither of us has experienced before – she’s a first time toddler and I’m a first time mom and together we’re trying to navigate this path from baby to toddler to pre-schooler. Gracie wears her emotions on her sleeve because she’s hasn’t been here long enough to learn to hide them and I wear mine on the same place because I haven’t had her in my life long enough to know what to do with all my feelings. Tonight, as I watch the object of all my emotions sleep, I am filled with joy at the feel of her warm, sweaty toddler breath against my cheek, a little sadness that these days that I want to last forever won’t, a little fear at the awesome responsibility of parenthood, but mostly I am brimming to the edge with love, sweet love