How old is too old to tell someone to, “stop touching me,” because today is one of those days that I am so there. It’s Sunday night, I am sitting here with the baby monitor in front of me with my toes crossed that those tiny green dots won’t start lighting up…again. After 2 days with my mom and sister at a not-so-far-away water park, and 2 more days in our little, temporary rental – I am so over this weekend.
I love my daughter ferociously, and would sooner play in traffic than let anything happen to her, but seriously I am all touched out today. It’s been nearly 100 hours of “Mommy up!” “Mommy dance!” “Mommy take nap with me!” Mommy again, again, again!” “Mommy push!” “Mommy help!” “Mommy put on show!” “Mommy my go in shower too!” You get the idea…
Not to mention, she’s 2. (I know, I know – everyone says 3 is worse. But, since I have nothing to compare it to, I feel like this is about as whiny as it gets. Be sure to check back in a year to watch me eat my words.)
My poor husband has tried, bless his heart. But, she wants nothing to do with him. He asks her to dance, she says, “No! My dance with Mommy.” He asks her to help him make dinner, “No! Mommy help make dinner.”
Oh em gee.
The only things (ONLY things) getting me through this long weekend, are:
A blog I read recently that reminds us that we will never again be loved, needed and wanted this much, so try to take advantage of these moments. This is WAYYYYYY easier said than done for anyone who has even been “touched out.” I never understood this concept pre-kiddo, but quickly learned that even the cutest, sweetest child can wear ya down with the need to be with you constantly. Taking a step back to breathe deeply and savor the moment is something I can do about 82% of the time. The other 18%, I have to just put her down and walk away. Believe it or not, the world has not ended because of this.
Remembering how hard we tried to get her in the first place. I have friends and acquaintances that have fallen all over the spectrum when it comes to the ability to and ease of which they can get pregnant. Some look at each other across a crowded room and end up with a baby on the way. Others have been struggling with hormone injections and sperm counts for years. We fall somewhere in the middle – it took a while, but no medical intervention. Regardless, there were sleepless nights, lots of tears and charts galore. We tried, wanted and prayed for this child, and I try to remember that in the tougher moments.
Daycare starts again tomorrow. Hallelujah.