Starting Over

There are just a lot of moments in my life lately that I wish there was a "Start Over" button.

Have you had a two-year-old before? I swear to you that I now understand why people have a second child before the first child turns two, because once you have a two-year-old, the whole game changes.

If two is any foreshadow for 15, Lord, help me. I'm probably not going to make it.

I know my child isn't anything out of the ordinary and I should be jumping for joy, praising the heavens and thanking all those lucky stars for having a healthy, smart, spunky and beautiful little girl. I should. But, you know what? Sometimes I can't even muster up the strength to be thankful for surviving til bedtime.

Maybe I thought that patience came as part of the deal for going through childbirth? Apparently I forgot to pick that one up when we checked out of the hospital.

Maybe I thought disciplining my own child would be like disciplining other people's children? Let me tell you, I rock at disciplining other people's kids. They are not cute. They are not mine. Mine? I suck. I can't keep a straight face unless I'm so pissed or so at the end of my rope that hurling myself out the window seems like vacation.

Then, she comes over, gives me a pat on the back and says, "I'm proud of you, Mommy. You did a peepee in the potty. Marshmallow?" And other than wanting to punch my own self in the face for being so impatient and psycho, I also want to die because she's just so stinking cute.

Lord, please don't stop giving me those "Start Over" moments. This crazy mama sure needs them.