One day it wasn’t and then the next we had bouquets out the ying-yang and we were all sad. Baby Peanut had missed the bus and it was a BIG shock. I never in a million years had considered that I would miscarry, or that if I did, my body would be so retarded as not to tell me at all. For like 5 WEEKS! I know.
Having spent the day in hospital having unspeakable things done to me, I can honestly say that I have lived through the worst day of my life and I am quietly proud of myself. I expected to fall apart and lose the plot and crawl back to my GP begging for antidepressants. But I haven’t done any of those things, I am just quietly getting on with things, loving Ethan about a million times more and being so thankful for him.
Yes it’s true. There is one. It’s not all spectacular family outings and cute photos of Ethan and his dog. There are days {like today} when I simply don’t know what to do any more. I have run out of good parenting tips and ideas, the reward charts aren’t working any more, taking things away seems to not faze him.
Don’t extrapolate from this and crucify me for being honest. My son is a wonderful caring boy, who is SMART beyond his years and intensely focused, driven and competitive {all of which are characteristics I value highly in people} but he also has a furious temper, is a control freak, requires instant gratification and refuses to take no for an answer.
Just like me.
So, somehow I need to teach my mini-me to respect ME and his father and his Nana and Grandad. Because, as he told me tonight, he is a lovely boy to everyone else.
So this is a bad day. And that’s all it is, but it is the truth and it is the reality of being a parent.
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