Mom Lesson: Some Days You Can’t Win

A little girl pulls her mom's hair

I have just collapsed in my big, squishy chair for the first time today. My back is screaming, my eyes are burning, and I have yawned six times since I started writing this sentence. Today was one of those days — the days when the kid wins.

From the time she woke up this morning, until she closed her eyes, she was walking a fine line. She was happy until something messed up her perfect 16-month-old world — such as me taking too long in between feeding her bites of oatmeal, and then life as she knew it was over. Throwing herself onto the floor in a fit of despair, banging her head on the tile when she KNOWS it hurts — nothing was off limits.

I had several projects I needed to accomplish today, unfortunately, and I tried to do that amidst the chaos.

HA. RIGHT.

I did try, though. This resulted in every toy she has ever owned being drug into the living room for her enjoyment, with the promise of at least 10 minutes of contentment per toy. So, in my line of sight at the moment, I see a pop-up tent deflated and leaning against the wall, plastic food of every variety strewn about, two different sippy cups on the floor (most likely leaking the remains of their contents), Cheerios that she dropped and the dog apparently missed, and the couch pulled out and pushed against the coffee table, with a blanket thrown over to create her “fort.”

It didn’t matter that I played with her all morning, quickly shifting gears when the boredom crept in and a tantrum loomed on the horizon; a half hour of independent play was too much to allow me. At one point I did manage to distract her with her photo album, and I managed to write four paragraphs before she realized my full attention was elsewhere… then she started pulling my arm and turning on the waterworks.

Okay, okay, you win. You win. It is all about you today.


And so I sit here in the silence, finally, after she quit protesting her bedtime and gave in to sleep, and after the husband has crawled into his own bed after his own chatoic work day, reveling in the quiet. Yes, I’m dreading the huge mess I will have to clean up (tomorrow!), but it’s over. It’s finally over. The moment I have been wishing for since 8 a.m. this morning has arrived. My head will hit the pillow, and the sheets will be pulled over me, and I will be back to the place I have dreamt of all day.

Let’s hope it’s my day to win tomorrow.