Actually, I need some time OFF.
It's been a banner day at Chez Michellany. My three year old told me she hates me.
Nothing shocking there, I suppose. Since time immemorial kids have been scoring direct, catastrophic hits by tossing this verbal grenade at their parents' un-kevlared hearts. Did Shakespeare have kids? Because he sure nailed it when he penned that "sharper than a serpent's tooth" bit.
And what have I done today to deserve my preschooler's unfettered contempt? I requested that she ask for, rather than demand, a banana.
I 'get' that I am my kids' "safe space." With me, they can let it all hang out - the proverbial good, bad and the ugly - because I love them unconditionally, and they are secure in the knowledge that I always will. They feel safe and confident that I will always be here for them. (Goodness knows that I am always here with them!)
And I recognize that's a measure of my success as a mom. I want my kids to feel loved and secure. And now that I've had a while this afternoon to 'process' my feelings, I also realize that it's probable my three year old has not one iota of an inkling of the significance I import to her words.
But here's the thing: I'm just tired - oh, SO tired - of being the receptacle for my kids' emotional upchucks on a daily basis. Yes, graphic and ugly. Do you have the sudden urge for a long, hot shower to wash away the unpleasant juju that conjures up?
Yeah. Me too...
