Good Enough

During our drive to my cousin’s house this weekend, I mentioned something about worrying whether or not Alyssa gets enough of my time.

My mom glanced at me with a small smile and said, “Don’t worry about her, she’s fine. You’ve done a great job of making sure she knows how much you love her.”

You guys…that brought tears to my eyes. I’ve worried since before Olivia was even born about whether or not Alyssa would feel displaced by her little sister. I’ve worried about my own ability to decently parent two kids. I’ve worried that I’m not nearly good enough for either of them, let alone both of them. And all that worry was before Olivia was born screaming like an injured kitten, needing more time and energy that I ever imagined a baby could need. Once we realized the extent of her needs, oh, the worry for Alyssa escalated beyond belief.

To have my mom reassure me that I’m doing a good job was a very significant thing for me.

Last night, Alyssa was snapping at Olivia for every little thing. I finally pulled Alyssa to the side and told her that being gentle, even when reprimanding, will get the results she wants much more quickly than being sarcastic or screechy.

I told her that I realize that sometimes I’m grouchier than she deserves and that I promise to work on being gentler too. She nodded her understanding and went back to flipping around the room.

Kids do what they see. They learn how to respond to stress and fatigue by watching their parents respond to those things.

And I realize that I’m grouchier than necessary a lot of the time. So Alyssa and I made a pact. We’ll both try to be gentler with each other and with Olivia. I will model gentleness and she’ll learn it from me. Even when we say no, we can say it gently, I reminded her and myself.

I’m so tired these days. Olivia’s sleep pattern has been screwed up for the past two weeks. Ever since she hurt her arm, she wakes up at least four times a night. Just last night, she woke up, realized I wasn’t next to her and started crying. I called over to her, telling her to come to me. She just sat there, crying, until I got up to get her. It is as if she’s reverted to the infant stage all over again.

Didn’t I once say I’d never go through the infant stage again? This is why. I do not do sleep deprivation very well. I get mean and grouchy and no matter how hard I try to tell myself to be gentle, when I’m tired, I can’t. I just can’t.

So here we are.

Except just last night Olivia raised both arms over her head and declared, “My arm feels better!”

Which means that this sleep issue is no longer about pain and is now about habit. We need to nip this thing in the bud.