Wednesday, August 14, 2013

The Fighter

Last night, near the end of the bedtime ordeal we have to go through every night to get her to sleep, Brigid elbowed me in the head. She'd tried to do it earlier in the process, aiming a nice little shot directly at my nose, but I'm quicker than she is, and I was able to block it. We had the conversation around how we don't hit people like that, and she needed to apologize for trying to hurt me.

She apologized. We moved on.

Fifteen minutes later, I was flipping through the book we were getting ready to read, and she caught me by surprise, landing a quick hit right to my ear. She's little, that one, but she's strong. Especially when it comes to elbows delivered directly to the head.

When she saw the look on my face after it happened, she told that she hadn't hit me, it was her toy panda bear she was holding. HE had hit me, and I needed to yell at HIM.

That, uh, didn't fly with me.

I ended the book immediately, told her we were done, and she just needed to go to sleep. WE DO NOT HIT PEOPLE. You need to go to bed RIGHT NOW.

She, of course, melted down. I yelled. She yelled. And the whole two to three hours I got to spend with my child yesterday ended with both of us upset. I rubbed her back to calm her down, when all I really wanted to do was finish reading her the book, since that's what seemed to be driving the sobbing. But. She had it taken away because she did something wrong, and I couldn't back down on that.

She might be stubborn, but I think I have her beat on that.

She was fine a few minutes later, sending me out of the room with a smile and an 'I love you, mommy'. Because, of course she can get over things just like that. I, on the other hand, remained upset that I'd had to get mad at her for hitting me. This is how they get you, I swear...

I took an elbow to the head, and I ended up feeling guilty that I wasn't happy about it.

Some days, I wonder how I'm supposed to keep doing this for the rest of my life, you know?


  1. Kids are just so...yeah. If I didn't have to feed them or put them to bed, I swear my life would be ten thousand times easier.

  2. I HATE those moments. HATE HATE HATE them. Because yeah, tough love is tougher on us than them.

    Boy, she's a little pistol, ain't she?


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