Day 382: Me and my shadow

Well, things around here are busy as usual, with milestones dropping left and right. Once again, Maddie has chosen to forgo the whole walking and talking bit in favour of something a bit more challenging... drumroll please... separation anxiety! Fun, fun stuff. Peeing on my own is a luxury of the past, apparently. I feel bad for her though, actually. Fernando and I have no problem letting her cry. She has had ample opportunity to exercise her little lungs over the past year - when she doesn't want to go to sleep, when she's mad because we don't let her chew on the telephone cable. But this is different - it's like she's panicked and afraid. It's irritating, sure, but it just about breaks your heart too. I'm hoping it is a phase that will pass quickly.

I have decided that there are two categories of parents. The first, often called the "good" ones, are able to keep a clear perspective on everything. They are empathetic and level-headed and confident and downright joyous. They would never, for instance, ask their 1 year old what the hell is wrong with them. They look at night wakings as an extra chance to bond with their baby. They recognize that every hurdle in their baby's development is all part of this crazy thing called life and thus embrace it.

The second camp is made up of the rest of us. We bounce around between teething and ear infections and temper tantrums looking almost as harried as we feel. We plead with our babies to please, for the love of god, give us one moment of silence. We administer baby Tylenol in healthy doses. We wonder what we're doing wrong. I know, you are probably shocked to hear that I fall into this second group. I do try to keep an eye on the big picture - I don't get mad at Mads for driving me crazy. Do I get frustrated? Oh hell yes. But I don't blame her, because I know she's just doing what she needs to do. And on a really good day, I am able to see her stubborn streak as independence, her temper as a strong will. But there are times when all I want is for her to be docile and easy - I want her to chill out in her carseat and smile at strangers who talk to her and not completely lose her mind when the dog eats the apple she dropped on the kitchen floor. Sometimes I just want her to give me a break!

But I love her, of course. So much I'm almost surprised she hasn't exploded from the force of it. I guess I just think it's possible - and okay - to love her without necessarily loving every second I spend with her. I think most of us in that second category would agree with that.