Letters To My Son

Dear X – Tomorrow Will Be Better

16th August 2016

Dear X

Today wasn’t a great day, was it? I wasn’t in good parenting form at all, was I? There was shouting (from me), hitting (from you) and lots of tears (from both of us). I know days like these will happen – today happened to be a perfect storm of being too hot, me having had very little sleep, you having had very little sleep, and me struggling with my time of the month (kudos for saying “sanitary towel” clearly this morning, though!)

Today I could barely summon the energy to drag myself to the drug drawer in the hunt for ibuprofen let alone magically entertain you with games and educational activities, so the blessed Tablet became your babysitter until it was time for lunch.

 

Which consisted of cocktail sausages and strawberries. Points for fruit, though, right?

And the less said about nap time the better – you wanting to sleep in my bed but me not being able to relax as there’s no monitor in there, then you not wanting to sleep AT ALL despite having giant bags under your eyes and being as cranky as me hell.

 

The (quick, before I punch something) walk to the park was nice – you got to play with your camera for a while until the battery ran out (more bad planning on my part) and there were lots of ducks and geese to look at. We even saw the heron circling the bird sanctuary before landing!

Ah but then the playground was rammed, so you headed into full on meltdown mode in 30 degree heat while overtired… not your finest moment, young man. But on the upside, it totally knackered you out and five minutes later you were zonked. Couldn’t have slept at home so I could have watched a few more Gilmore Girls though could you? Noooooo….

 

It did give me the chance to chill out, sat on the Sleeping Duck statue in Brookvale Park (which is rather handily a Pokestop… shame the park is full of Pidgeys and Ratattas mind…) before heading home and avoiding the urge to buy sweets at the shop.

 

Being tired doesn’t suit you. I know you’re at that seemingly eternal stage of not always needing a nap (and certainly not ever wanting one) and it’s really a lottery which way you’ll go. I wish you could tell me about 9am if you’re going to have a nap – it would make planning our day so much easier. You don’t like sleeping in your buggy – you scream as you’re disorientated when you wake and it’s not nice to see you like that – sobbing and telling me you don’t know why you’re upset.

 

I’d like to say our evening got better, but while you were good and ate your broccoli trees and carrot sticks (avoided the chicken) you then went MENTAL when it came to bedtime. You upset Daddy by kicking him and laughing. Again and again. And then despite being more tired than I’ve seen you in a very long time, you still didn’t manage to go off until 9.30pm.

 

I don’t like days like today. I should be sitting here raving to your father about how you learned how to hop today, and are showing interest in potty training soon, but instead I’m ranting about meltdowns and total disobedience, and crying into my hot cup of tea about how I shouted at you instead of talking to you.

Tomorrow

Tomorrow we’ll start again; we’ll be best friends again and try to find something to do that doesn’t involve me spending too much time in the sun – I’ll explain about your inherited Irish and Dutch ancestry when you’re older. Tomorrow you will still push all my buttons but I shall try not to get too cross. Tomorrow you will give me one of your amazing superhero cuddles and a huge sloppy kiss, and all will be well.

 

Today wasn’t a good day. But that doesn’t mean tomorrow can’t be.

 

I love you, my lovely little man.

 

Mummy x

 

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