Let me tell you about a person in my life. Somebody I have to deal with every single day. This somebody is not an easy person. In fact, this someone drives me crazy every now and then. One day this person loves some food and the next day we can’t serve it, although that’s what we literally lived off for a week. There are days when the same food for breakfast, lunch and dinner is OK, and then there are days when searching for the good-enough food is fruitless (pun intended)…
There are days, when it seems like this person’s drawers are full of cool clothes; then this closet that’s bursting on the hinges has nothing to offer and no shoes are not good enough, all outer layers are horrible and we just need to go shopping.
Sometimes going to the park seems like the best idea ever, but the next day it’s too cold/hot/noisy/quiet… the complains don’t stop once they start!
Sometimes any book will do. All the pages are so colourful! So beautiful! Sometimes a library won’t have a single sheet that could satisfy the moodiness…
Shall I go on? You get the idea. By now you think you know who I’m talking about. I bet I know who you’re picturing right now. You think I am describing my toddler, right? Right? Well, I have just described a full grown adult. This is me. Totally me.
Not an easy person. Opinionated, yet lost at times. Sometimes I just know what’s planned for the day ahead and then sometimes I just can’t manage what was supposed to be done quick… Sometimes I crave a food that I normally dislike. There are moments when a certain dress is fabulous and then I want to toss it in the bin. We all have moods, tastes and thoughts that change with outer (and inner, let’s not forget inner 😉 ) influences.
Now imagine the toddler you thought I was talking about. He has good days and not so good days. But he can’t always decide what he would do, eat, wear, because he doesn’t have the experience and the abilities… and that’s just the beginning. His problem is that he can’t fully express himself yet. Even if he could say a few words, even if he could sign, he wouldn’t be able to tell me exactly how and WHY he feels in a certain way. Again, even we adults aren’t always able to do that – why else there would be help lines, shrinks and group therapies? And BFFs? And …. well, even Sigmund Freud was a big boy when he was trying to get into our heads.
It’s a difficult world out there. It’s a VERY difficult world inside too. Every time I am about to get mad, because this little man is acting up, not eating, not “cooperating”, I have to remember how much effort it sometimes takes me to be a big girl. How much effort it sometimes takes to control myself and reason with my inner alter egos.
I have to remind myself of something I read once: that this beautiful person, that my toddler is, is not GIVING me a hard time, he is HAVING a hard time. And I am here to help him, guide him and teach him how to be a big boy. And by doing that I am helping myself, guiding myself and teaching myself how to be an adult.
Come here, Aditya! Mommy needs a hug!