a rough patch

Can you believe this?

Somehow the little rascal got her wooden (read: heavy) chair into her crib. And may I point out, all four sides are firmly intact. I would rather her actually nap but, I'll give it to her, she's pretty innovative.

I have to tell ya, I'm glad things were running so smoothly around here when I wrote that letter to Hannah. The last couple weeks have been a little rough around here. My sweet girl has been replaced by a monster. A monster I've been close to putting out of the house.

More accurately, I've been close to running away.
"I am about to lose it."
"I seriously don't know how much more I can take."
"I am at the end of my rope."
Sound familiar to any other parent of a strong-willed preschooler?
 {Please, only tried-and-true advice and encouragement appreciated. I can't handle any more "It only gets worse." or "Just wait..." comments.}

My incredibly stubborn daughter has tried my patience, and pushed me past my limit (which I admit is sometimes not as high as others) more times than I care to think about. Usually I have to walk away or stop whatever I'm trying to do or explain, and take a deep breath. I know it's the age, but I just struggle on how better to handle it. The screaming fits (and these fits make the fits of the past seem like nothing), the tantrums, the persistence to do exactly the opposite of what I ask her to do, the constant will to push the boundaries on every single thing, is enough to drive a mom mad, especially a stay-at-home-mom. {And this is assuming all is well with the other kid.} Perhaps she's picking up some behavioral problems at preschool, or maybe her behavior is worsened by seeing the other kids act up too, but at least those are three hours, five days a week that I have a chance to recharge my battery.

This sign needs to hang in my house:

I don't want to rush into the whole terrible two's versus the terrible three's or whatever people call them. I think that different kids do different things and some years are more challenging than others. {Two wasn't easy for us by any stretch of the imagination.} But I will say that this phase we are in can go ahead and move on, thankyouverymuch. I try to be patient and manage the stress level. I try my absolute hardest to stay in control. But it's impossible all of the time. I am humbled daily on my parenting skills. I know there is room for improvement.

 

I ask God to help me be the best parent I can be. I constantly rely on His grace.

 

All day long I find myself praying one liners for wisdom, patience, discernment, energy, consistency...help. I would like to say that I recall scripture in these oh-so-frustrating moments, but usually some of these favorite verses only come to mind later on when I am removed from the situation.

This post is not to receive pity. It is only a reflection of what's been on my mind and, because it is my reality, the only thing I see fit to write about. Every day is not miserable. Some days are easier than others. Perspective always helps. It is the bad days that really test me. And it is the good days that encourage me.

Just now (almost 10 o'clock), after a relatively trying day, I went to Hannah upset in her crib. I rocked her, scared from a dream I presume, and then stroked her head as she lay back down in bed. It was one of those beautiful moments as a parent when you love every inch of your precious child and feel so blessed. She asks for her Daddy so once I get back to the sofa (and my laptop), I listen on the monitor to him singing "Be Thou My Vision" and "Amazing Grace". 

Moments to build strength on. Perspective. Grace.