This morning, I took the kids to the library for a mini-scavenger hunt, and to pick up a ton of books I had placed on hold. I usually avoid the library with Cheeky Baby in tow. Anyone that listens to me talk about her for at least a few seconds will generally hear descriptive terms like, a terror, reeking havoc, or queen of mischief. That is pretty much how I see her. Don’t get me wrong. I love her, and she is ridiculously cute, which helps to make up for how crazy she can be, but that child is hand-full.
I planned this trip a week ahead, just so I could pump myself up for it, since loud and rambunctious toddlers aren’t very compatible with the library setting. The thing is, that by the time we got done, I realized we had an awesome trip. Not like she was perfection, but she actually listened fairly well, didn’t rip books off the shelves throwing them everywhere, and didn’t continually try to run out of the kids area. It was pretty nice, and she even made friends with a very nice man, and had him look at a book with her. We were back in the car before I realized that I didn’t feel stressed out and ready to scream.
Then, as crazy mamas sometimes do, I started crying for what seemed to be no apparent reason. It really hit me that she is turning two tomorrow, and that she is growing up on me. I have spent the past two years struggling with being a mother of two, and I know I haven’t fully enjoyed the process the way I should have. This is what I have been waiting painfully for; her to be more independent and less of a pain in my rear. I kept thinking about it on my way home, and my eyes would keep tearing up, just spiraling through different emotions. Guilt. Nostalgia. Happiness. Optimism mixed with feelings of bittersweetness.
Well, you know how it goes, she totally made up for it by acting like a complete nutter after we got home, and things felt the same again. 😛
Happy Birthday Cheeky Face!