My life hovers between two extremes: either very happy, or very resigned/pissed off/fighting-hard-not-to-go-berserk.
When Elly’s cheerfully burbling and stumbling around the house by herself, exploring and babbling, life is good. I’m happy. I love playing around with her. Watching her shriek in laughter and run/crawl off when I roar and stomp in her direction is just hilarious. Seeing her learn new (English) words, gratifying. Looking at her fast asleep in the cot makes me go all warm and fuzzy.
And there’s the hellish side of things when she screams and rages, working herself into a frenzy and crying like I just mutilated her best friend or something. She’s frustrated, I’m frustrated but I can’t show it. I’m getting pretty good at reading her, but there are occasions when it just comes out of nowhere and something random just sets her off. I know cuddling’ll calm her down a bit, but I decided some time back, hugs are not a long term solution because I don’t want her to equate screaming fits = getting a hug and cuddle. So the only thing I do is to take a deep breath, drop her into the cot and let her cool off for a bit.
Fun days, fun days. Heaven hath no patience like that of a long-suffering parent.