I love my daughter.
Like, LOVE LOVE LOVE her. I hope that through this blog that is obvious.
But in an effort to keep it real, I'd like to blog a bit about my frustration of late. It is the same frustration that I have
blogged about before.
As she gets older and grows into her own little being with her own little personality and her own little quirks, I am both amazed and, frankly, terrified.
Here's the thing- as someone who has worked with kids of all ages the past twelve years, my favorites have ALWAYS been boys. BOYS! Do you know why? Because I HATE GIRL DRAMA.
I seriously have NO TIME for the girl drama. The tears. The hysterics. The cattiness. NO TIME.
(This fact is probably hilariously ironic to my husband since I'm sure he finds me overly slightly dramatic at times.)
I say all this because I love my daughter, but I fear she may have inherited my dramatic side. And I'm struggling with having the patience to deal with it.
We have had a few rough times this past week. There have been more battles. There have been a couple mornings that Chris has been gone and I've barely made it out of the house on time with her dressed. Never mind fed, bathed and with shoes on.
And what drives me nuts? The fact that something as little as
me asking her to put pull-ups in her backpack, her throwing them down the stairs on purpose instead of doing what I asked, then me putting them in the backpack because we were running late, then her getting mad that she couldn't put them in the backpack can cause the most catastrophic meltdown of the century.
Did you follow that? If not, just know the catastrophic meltdown was over pretty much nothing. And that is what drives me crazy.
So I just keep telling myself that she is 2-going-on-3 and it is a phase. And I know it probably isn't even a girl thing, just a toddler thing. But the future girl drama is a very scary thought.
I'm working on my patience and I'm very thankful to be married to a guy who is well-versed in handling drama. And I wish him luck in the future.