Good Lord, parenting is tough

Our Wednesdays together have been full of moments that I will treasure all my life, as well as moments that I cringe to remember as a parent. The shell moment was fantastic. This morning's wade around the rocks at the beach with my son was another. The weather was perfect, sunny and not yet too warm. The water was calm and beautiful, the view of the mountains, boats, and city was spectacular. There were rocks to sit on and water shushing quietly, and we both meandered around, feet pleasantly cool, rocks hard under our feet, the ocean creating a quiet peace. It's times like this that my otherwise constantly moving toddler will actually sit, and watch the waves, or look at rocks with me, and the nearness of his wee body and his breath on my shoulder as we lean over to look at something new and fascinating still takes my breath away with the wonder of it. This is my son. I made this person. And he's perfect.

This evening, however, The Man came home to a house of chaos. A dinner almost ruined through lack of attention. A cardboard box torn apart in the middle of the floor. The stroller upended in the kitchen, and the coffee table -- a huge, heavy wooden contraption -- lying upside down in the middle of the living room. He narrowly missed me corralling said toddler and fishing a coin out of his mouth, despite repeated warnings not to take that coin and not to put any coin in your mouth, ever.

The list actually goes on -- I don't think that there was anything that we've previously forbidden that wasn't taken on this afternoon. In desperation I sat down and nursed him, although we've been actively trying to wean my (yes, almost 2.5-year-old) son, and have restricted nursing to bedtime only. 

(As an aside -- wow, I never knew how hard this was going to be. I had heard -- both through family and through websites -- that there are kids who are just really, really attached to nursing and if you let them will nurse into preschool years. I was committed to nursing a good long time, but I thought the kid would give it up by two. Boy, was I wrong. And now, unfortunately, we've come to a place where I am simply too exhausted to keep up with the level of nursing that there was, and so cutting back is simply necessary for my own health, and wow ... he is not keen. To say the least.)

It helped. A little. 

I like to think I'm a good parent. I listen, a lot. We both do our best not to yell, and to remember the difference between a child whose behaviour reflects merely a lack of knowledge, or whose behaviour is the result of lack of food / drink  / sleep rather than one who is willfully being a pain in the rear. We try to have logical consequences for actions, and to not sweat the small stuff. But days like this -- it felt in the end that there was nothing I could do. I could sit down and pay lots of attention to him, and it didn't help. He had a nap, it didn't help. I fed him when he was misbehaving instead of getting angry, it didn't help. We could talk and remind about rules in a non-emotional, calm way ... and it didn't help. I could speak sharply ... that almost never helps, I don't even know why I try it. 

I have a level of patience for my child that surpasses anything else. I am a very impatient person, and yet I am constantly patient for him. I was patient through the afternoon, and only starting coming apart at the seams once dinner seemed ruined and there wasn't time to order or cook another one before bedtime and a toddler without dinner means for a bad night's sleep AIEEEEEEE. 

I comfort myself with the knowledge that this happens to everyone. It does. My kid is a good kid for the most part, and we only get days like this once in a while. But wow. Wow. This is pretty hard stuff.