Patience

He's a biter.

Before I had Ian, I was worried I would not have the patience required to be a good mom. Then, I found that I had a magic reservoir of unknown patience and empathy and thought all was well. I could handle his crying, his neediness, his hunger, his poop and barf and pee and drool…

But now, at 15 months, I’ve hit the wall. Exhausted and constantly challenged with throwing food, spitting food, scratching, biting, kicking, hitting, and self-induced vomiting (yes, you read that right), I am patient no more. I’ve resorted to increased babysitter and TV time (how much do I LOVE Juli and Curious George?).

My mantras: This is my only one…I’m never doing this again…One day he will be five.

And yet, I know I am a mother because despite all these horrible feelings, I rush to pick him up after being away from him with bated breath. I watch videos of him while he sleeps. I stand and watch him and marvel, every day, at the person he is becoming.

I just want someone to take him and run him ragged from 3-6pm every day…

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