Maternal aphasia: Month 5

Happy 5 months Abe! In less than half a year you've turned us into your devoted mama and daddy, and your big brother into a quivering puddle of sweetness who cannot resist grabbing and nuzzling your little hands and feet at every opportunity (and by that I mean, EVERY opportunity). There is nothing sweeter than your smile, than your head slumped in sleep against my chest, than the weight of you when I lift you up after nursing and I feel how very solid you are. You would be a very hard act to follow and the feeling in my heart these days is, enough babies. Hard to know if my ovaries are on board with that plan.

Happy July, Jonah! You are almost 43 months old. Congratulations. Now would you, could you, PLEASE lighten up? It seems that every morning has to start with you whining that you don't want to go pee. And then it's a downward spiral to power struggles over cleaning up your infinite cars, which you repeatedly roll in every direction in the living room. Admit it: It's not play, it's passive aggression. I can absolutely understand why the subtitle of the book Your Three Year Old is: Friend or Enemy? For the record, Jonah, I am sick of taking your toys away when you misbehave. I am tired of telling you to be a good listener. And I am fed up with myself whenever I just yell at you instead of trying to find some magical third way to get you to do what you need to be doing. A wise mama of many more children than I have recently let me in on her coping technique when things are not getting done: She has a mental filter, and in every situation, she applies it, asking herself whether the behavior of the child in question is really worth getting angry over, or not. If not, she moves on and doesn't engage. I need to practice...