Tuesday, April 16, 2013

I Don't Wanna

Enough already. I've spent far too much of the precious time that I have to myself grousing, mindlessly perusing Facebook, and desperately searching through Flickr for previously unposted pictures that I could build a story around, or simply substitute for actual content.

I'm just going to come right out and say it. I don't want to blog tonight, so why I'm attempting to write a post at all is anyone's guess. Maybe because it's one way to get it all out there that I'm feeling stretched a little too thin after spending the day with a toddler in the throes of the "Terrible Twos," a toddler wanna-be who leaves more destruction in his wake in the course of one week than his older sister has in her 2.5 years (well, until now, that is, when she's taken it upon herself to copy his antics and/or join in on his mischief) and a newborn who must either be attempting to permanently attach herself to me or has perhaps simply hit her first growth spurt.

Now that I have a temporary respite, I don't want to think at all, most especially not about the things I'm decompressing from. Like unpleasantness at the park this morning, when Abby took it upon herself to claim ownership of the slide by hitting the other children who tried to use the equipment alongside her. Like the guilt I felt afterwards, and doubt about whether I properly handled the whole thing. Like the snowballing curiosity and knack for getting into dangerous things and situations that grows in little Michael, day by day.  Like the absolutely appalling behavior of my oldest during dinner, and her subsequent hitting, smacking, screaming and tantruming spree afterwards. Like the triage that I had to perform this evening when Abby split open her lip, and I had to not only detach Mia, but put her down, in order to attend to the bleeding party. Screaming in stereo, and only one of me, since Tom was upstairs getting Michael to bed.

And yet, here I am trying to process it, and I might as well do it while I write. I know that it does no one any good, least of all me, to view every choice I've made in the midst of all these events as a questionable one, but it's hard not to. It's hard not to when I can't seem to get any traction. I know that I'm dealing with babies, and that discipline is a work-in-progress at best. I know that I can't expect obedience every time, or even half the time. I just wish that I saw some level of improvement.

I wish a lot of things.

In the end, it's up to me to stop wishing and start working to improve myself, I suppose. To focus on being patient. To get more creative. To be more involved in positive ways.

And to stay optimistic. After a day like this one, tomorrow is bound to be better, right?