We are in the throes of them, and I am not a born toddler mom. I think I've talked about it. Having a newborn changed me in a lot of ways, but it didn't stretch me, push me to my limit the way the Terrible Twos have.
Things have been tough between Clare and me. I want her to behave like a 4 year old. She wants to be strong and brave and independent. She wants to never sleep and live on candy, PB&J, and yogurt. I want her to just take one bite of what I made for dinner. Just one. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeease?
Sometimes, I look at Peter, and I beg him to never be two.
I don't mean it, and I don't want to feel that way. I know I would (and someday will ) miss the magic that comes along with the stubborn. The sparkle of Christmas lights. Begging for another Christmas song or another story or another tickle. I would miss the ridiculous that leaves me laughing and cursing under my breath all at the same time.
It's all comes down to the same things that always seem to trip me up. I struggle to not wish the days away. I hold myself to too-high expectations. I don't pray as I ought. I don't nurture myself the way I need to. I don't nurture my kids they way they need me to. I fall short. In my humanity, I fall short. I shouldn't be surprised, but I am. Thankfully, God gives us grace to get through.
I'm trying. My goodness, I'm trying. That's what the Christian life is about. It's about getting up after you fall, and righting yourself along the path. With God's grace, we'll get through these Terrible Twos.
Besides, I know I have age three yet to come.