Weeping & Wailing --- On Thursday, Leigh and I had our hardest day yet - by far.

How, one might ask, can anyone have a bad day with such an angel!


 

First, Leigh was kind of sick; second, it was raining outside, so Charlotte and I decided I could stay in with Leigh before meeting her (the three of us meet up for lunch everyday - so Leigh gets a good dosage of mommy between grueling danio-times). I think it's almost always better to go out, at least for a few minutes, if possible.
Leigh and I did alright for a while, but she was getting harder to please. In general, she's having a good time, and every once in a while, she can't reach something, or she's not getting enough attention, or she's hungry, or she's looking for a change of pace or a different activity. When this happens, it takes minimal to concerted effort on my part to attend to her needs, and then she's good to go. But today (Thursday), it was a lot harder. The problem was, I don't think there was really much that great to do in the apartment, and she's rather use to getting out during the day - or at least having mommy, in which case getting out is secondary. So all of my efforts worked at best for a few moments.
This situation persisted, even escalated. I tried to go out with her with the stroller and an umbrella, but I didn't realize the second (smaller) stroller was just cloth-covered, and would just get soaked. So we went back in. I also made some lunch, and tried other activities, during the course of which I noticed and appearance and increase of irritation on my part. I caught myself immediately, and took note to not act on it at all with Leigh (to not be short with her, curse, or kick stuff too violently). In part, the irritation was directed towards her, since she was the one who couldn't be satisfied. Reason became my anchor, as I remembered that she really only asks when she needs, and there is no malice in her complaining.
Nonetheless, the emotional strain (combined with the partial recognition that I would never please her as much as her mother could) eventually led to an overload, and there I found myself, crying hysterically, sobbing loudly, even shaking during the last 10 minutes as I tried to get us out of the house to go to lunch. For brief moments she gave me a puzzled look, soon again to rejoin me in our cacophonic wailing.
Throughout this near-fiasco, I maintained a rather clear consciousness of the situation, recognizing my emotional state, and accepting my reaction to Leigh. I actually apologized to her for those moments during which I offered no distraction and made little effort to cheer her up (a task always at least partially accomplished via songs or clowning). But I also congratulated myself for focusing my thoughts on service and love, and only allowing my emotions to play their minimal normal course.
In the end, I felt good about the fact that I tried my best, I used reason and welcomed the situation and praised God for presenting it, she will not be traumatized by the experience (I don't think), and I learned lots about myself, Leigh, and relationships with infants. Plus Charlotte said I did extremely well.
I am grateful for the experience, and I know I have grown from it, and will most likely do better in the future.