I hate to break it to you but, I’m not going to win Mother of the Year. My son is two and a half. I sometimes feel like I am still learning how to be a mom. I get frustrated when he doesn’t listen. I loose my cool when he yells or hits to get his way. And I laugh at inappropriate things.
Like for instance this morning in the car. I’m driving my son to the sitter, he is in the back seat talking, playing with his cup and making noises. All of the sudden he is crying. I flip the rear view mirror so I can see him (I learned last year to position my rear view mirror so I can just flip it to look back at him instead of turning my head while driving) Genius I know! Anyway, I flipped the mirror and he is holding his hand. I asked what is wrong and he says “It hurts mom”. I ask “What? your finger? your knuckle?” he says “My finger and holds up his middle finger.” I giggled. Yep. I giggled at his innocence. I always giggle at farts, burps and when he says something that is totally inappropriate, but he has no idea.
We are finally at the stage where he is putting together sentences and really holding conversations. Sometimes he still says words wrong or puts them together in the wrong order. I hear that is totally normal for toddlers who are still learning the ropes of the English language. Some times he tries really hard to get the sentence together and it sounds like this: “I want, I want, I want umm… I want to take a long walk.” It’s so cute when you can see the wheels turning. I try to help him out as much as I can, but I also pause and let him speak. It’s a fine balance.
I stopped talking the “baby talk” before he turned a year old. We read for at least an hour a day. I feel bad at night when he is begging for one more book and I have to say no because it is not ten o’clock and we have been reading for an hour and a half. I love to read and it seems my son does as well! He interrupts in the middle of the story if he hears a new phrase. He repeats it, and files it in his memory bank. We talk about what new words mean. Last night the new phrase was “to the hospital! Stat!” we talked about what Stat means. Then this morning I asked him and he remembered.
Being a mother is hard. My best friend told me when I was was pregnant that being a mother is the hardest job she has ever loved. I get that now. Even if I laugh at the inappropriate things and loose my cool, we laugh and kiss each others noses too.
I asked him for this child, and he gave me what I asked for. 1 Samuel 1:27 GNB