Life as a New Mom: Brave Enough for Battle

My daughter is now 18 months old--that's a year-and-a-half. It's like some sort of toddler purgatory: She's no longer a baby, but she's still not a "big girl."Dolores is more independent every day. She wants to explore EVERYTHING. I try to indulge her curiosity, and that means a good 50% of my day is spent saying one or more of the following phrases:

• "Don't touch that."
• "No-No."
• "Put that down."
• "Get that out of your mouth."
• "Don't jump on the bed/ couch/ highchair /counter/ bathtub/ crib/ dog."
• "We don't throw our toys."
• "We don't pull mommy's/ daddy's/ the dog's hair."
• "Don't take your clothes off."
• "Don't take your diaper off."
• "Don't throw your clothes."
• "Don't throw your diaper."
• "Don't pick your/ my/ the dog's nose."

Every day is an adventure. I say that with endearing optimism and searing sarcasm, because there's a part of me that knows each day and moment we spend together is special--and there's also a part of me that's like, enough is enough--I'm about to lock myself in the bathroom just to get some alone time.

It's so hard--it's like I am fighting this constant battle with myself to stay positive and maintain the right frame of mind. Example: Daylight Savings Time started early yesterday morning. I LOATHE DST; it throws us off our schedule. Dolly goes to bed around 7:15 p.m., so she was still wide-eyed and ready to play when the season finale of True Detective began at 8. I wanted to watch this show so bad, and yet I was stuck with a teething, shrieking banshee demon hellbeast who DID NOT want to "just go to sleep."

Inside, I want to say things that would get me a big fat FCC fine. I'm frustrated; I'm angry--but then I take a deep breath and realize my sweet little girl needs me. The TV show can wait. Thank God and Comcast for the DVR--while the show was recording, I was able to rock her to sleep. I pulled up this video on my phone; we cuddled and watched it together--and soon, she was sleeping.

Being a mother to a toddler is to fight a thousand tiny battles. Dolores doesn't want to do the things I want her to--be it bedtime, bath time, eating her veggies, or not having a full-blown hissy fit in Winn-Dixie while ten other women throw shade at me because my kid is crying in public. (I SAW Y'ALL HEIFERS JUDGING ME. LIKE YOUR KIDS NEVER CRIED. PLEASE.) Anyway, my point is--motherhood is these tiny battles, one after another, over and over and over and over. It's easy to feel frustrated and to give in to that frustration, but I try my hardest to never let negativity win.

It's a challenge--every day, everything, but it's worth it. Our messy, fussy, crazy, imperfect but somehow still perfect life is everything I've ever wanted. I'm facing our battles head-on, and I am learning something from every one. I learn more about me, about my daughter, about how to be a better mother, about how to be a better person.

I have always been short-tempered and extremely impatient--a volatile combination. In the 18 months I've been a mother, that's changed so much. Our little battles have taught me the value of patience and perspective. I'm far from flawless now, but I'm much more calm and collected than I used to be. How's that for a victory?

That's just one--one of so many. With these battles come countless victories: I got her to eat broccoli. I taught her how to put on her socks. I didn't turn into a crying neurotic freakshow when she skinned her knee. I cleaned the house, folded the laundry, cooked a meal, AND got her in bed in time for a long (and long overdue) bubble bath. I stopped the aisle 7 grocery store tantrum. I took a deep breath and counted to ten. She learned how to use a fork without poking her eye out. I finally got her to sleep at 1:13 a.m.

Each day brings new battles. I just do the best I can--and honestly, I think that's what being a mom is really all about.