Disclaimer: I love my daughter. Like, crazy love her. She is my sun, my moon, my stars, my world. If you know me at all in real life I wouldn’t have to explain this. But, alas, this is the internet, so I’m putting up front.
My daughter is generally a very pleasant little girl. She’s sweet, funny, caring, and has a magnetic personality. She’s becoming a little performer and will frequently put on shows for us in the living room, at the homes of friends and family, and even in restaurants. She is, in a word, awesome.
And sometimes I really don’t like her.
When she whines. Ugh. Whining. Do you know why I was so excited when my daughter spoke her first word? (Which was, of course, Dada.) Because whining sucks. Having to figure out what you mean or want by, “Wah,” is a pain in the patoot. You like to show off how many words you know all day long… use your words.
When she acts like a baby. Listen, you were an adorable baby. I loved being the mommy of my beautiful baby girl. I changed diapers, and carried you everywhere, did pretty much everything for you except eat, sleep, and poop. You are not a baby anymore. You can get your own water. You can walk from the living room chair to the sofa. You can pull your own pants down. I was a devoted baby mama, but as you like to remind me, you’re a big girl now.
At bedtime. I get it. You don’t want to go to bed. You’re not tired, despite your red, droopy eyes. But please, for the love of all things good and decent, just go to sleep! I am tired. I do want to go to bed. But I can’t do that until you go to sleep and I get my laundry list of crap done.
When she acts too much like me. There’s nothing as humbling as seeing your own bad behavior reflected back at you by your child. When she lifts her eyebrows and gives me the “teacher face” I’m so well known for at school. When she answers a question with a slightly sarcastic tone. When she responds to a question with, “I don’t know, what do you think?” It’s infuriating, and embarrassing.
Does this make me a bad mom? I used to think so. I used to think that if I wasn’t thrilled to be a mother every moment of the day I was failing her. But at the end of the day, she’s a person. She’s a girl with her own way of doing things, trying to find her place in the world, and sometimes she’s going to piss me off. Not just because she’s a person, but because I’m only human.
When all is said and done my daughter knows she’s loved beyond belief. She knows she has a mom who will always be there for her. And she knows that mommy’s an imperfect person who’s doing the best she can.
