I’ve told Lily to get dressed half a dozen times this morning with mounting frustration, and then I realized: she’s playing independently.
It’s a bit of a complaint/worry of mine. This playing independently thing. I feel like Lily never does it, and sometimes, man, sometimes I just want a break. So imagine my surprise when I realize that maybe the answer is letting her muck about in her PJs.
When I last wrote, I may or may not have been crying from pure frustration and self-loathing. And while Lily is still throwing quite a few tantrums, we’re all ok. Sometimes she’s going to be sad and furious and sometimes she’s going to be happy and silly. I’m trying to roll with it. Most of the time she wants us to be going somewhere and she wants someone to be playing with her, but sometimes she just wants to chill out in her PJs. So I write.
I took these photos a couple of days ago. Lily was saying, “Oh my god, Lu. You are so silly. Mom! Look! She is just too silly!” Which is I guess how I must sound most of the time. Like a teenager?!
I was listening to the radio the other day, and there was this report about a gene they’ve isolated associated with anti-anxiety. People with this gene aren’t worriers. They’re laid back. They’re fine. They don’t wonder if they’re shitty parents (I digress). We were just coming off a tear and sweat soaked tantrum, and I was feeling sorry for Lily and myself. Sorry, girl. That gene is not in your DNA, and I’m pretty sure you came by that honestly. We’re the rats that huddle in a corner when bright lights are flashing.
But Lu? She just might be the rat that starts dancing when the lights flash. Wouldn’t that be fabulous? I hope so. But if not, we’ll get through this, all of us, together.
