Today, I think I reached my breaking point. Some might label me as overly sensitive, suggesting that this chaos is simply part of the parenting gig. But I’m not like everyone else; I’m uniquely me. I adore my son, yet there are moments when I wish I could step back from motherhood—it doesn’t always match my expectations. This is my reality, and it’s a tough one.
Let Me Elaborate
My son appears to be on the verge of giving up his afternoon nap, and I am absolutely not ready for this change. Those two to three hours of quiet time are my sanctuary. Without them, my mood takes a nosedive—just ask my partner, who would gladly confirm it! Lately, he’s been taking naps only a few times a week, and wouldn’t you know it, those are the days when our nanny is here. Little rascal! We still try to enforce quiet time, requiring him to stay in his room, whether or not he sleeps. On days when he doesn’t nod off, he often occupies himself with books, but sometimes, he ventures out and turns his room into a disaster zone. Those afternoons are the ones I dread. Yesterday was one of those days.
When I finally entered his room after what I hoped would be a peaceful nap, I was greeted by the sight of him without pants or a pull-up. I had been monitoring him, but what I didn’t anticipate was his cheerful announcement: “Mommy, I pooped on the floor! I went right here and here and there. And I peed over there!” Oh my goodness! My toddler had taken off his pants and diaper and made quite the mess on the rug. As I walked in, he was attempting to clean up the mess with wipes—just like we do for our dog when he has an accident. It was almost cute, in a bizarre way. Should I commend him for trying to be helpful? He was laughing hysterically while I struggled to keep my composure.
This was uncharted territory for us. We’re in the midst of potty training, but he’s been holding off on pooping in the potty, instead timing it for when he’s asleep. I instructed him to sit on the chair. “Nooooo!” was his immediate response, and realizing my blunder, I quickly changed my mind; his bottom was not exactly clean. I offered a compromise: he could sit on the changing table while I cleaned him up. After I wiped everything down, I dressed him and ushered him out of the room.
The Cleaning Frenzy
Then began the cleaning frenzy. Just as I would pick up one piece of mess, it seemed like another would materialize. I changed the sheets, tossed everything into the washing machine, and pulled out the carpet cleaner, moving like a zombie. My expression must have been one of utter despair. Yet, somehow, I managed to maintain my calm. I didn’t raise my voice or make him feel ashamed. When he asked if I was happy, I explained that I was feeling quite the opposite and that the only acceptable place for such things is in the potty (or a diaper). He seemed to grasp it and promised not to do it again, assuring me that I would be happy next time.
Afterward, I sank onto the couch while Daniel Tiger entertained my little one. We could try to move on, but the experience lingered with me, leaving me feeling a bit traumatized. I texted a mom friend to vent, admitting that I felt ridiculous for being so upset. She reassured me that my feelings were perfectly normal and reminded me that it wasn’t just glitter I was cleaning up—it was real mess! Thank goodness for supportive mom friends who keep it real.
As I sat there, it felt like an eternity. I knew my husband would be home soon, and the family room looked like it had been hit by a tornado, thanks to my son’s toy explosion. I sat there cross-legged on the couch, completely zoned out, with memories of postpartum depression creeping back in. Can those feelings resurface even two years later? I ought to consult my therapist—perhaps it’s time for a visit.
When my husband finally arrived, he took charge of the mess, tidying up the whole family room to ease my slightly obsessive-compulsive tendencies. He had a talk with our son, gave me a gentle kiss on the head, and took us out for pizza and wine. By the time we returned home, my mood had lifted. I found myself playing with my son and laughing, grateful that the moment had passed.
Reflections on Motherhood
I recognize that some moms would brush this off as no big deal—even friends of mine. But I am who I am, and I won’t apologize for that. When this incident occurred, my mind raced with worry about it becoming a new habit for my son, and I kept thinking, “This isn’t what I signed up for!” But in truth, I did choose this path when I became a parent. It’s all part of the package, which isn’t always fun or straightforward. I often struggle with the challenging moments, and that’s my ongoing battle—the struggle is undeniably real!
This article was originally published on April 15, 2016.
Summary
This piece chronicles the emotional rollercoaster of parenting, focusing on a particularly challenging day involving a potty training mishap. The author shares her struggles with maintaining composure while managing unexpected situations, reflecting on the realities of motherhood and the importance of support from fellow parents.
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