Bliss of Life

When I put Lily to bed tonight I talked about all the events of the day, right up to the last and final meltdown.  We spent the late afternoon at our friends Sam and Mia’s house.  We played, ate manicotti, peas, and pears, and then Lily watched/helped Sam take his night time bath.  Then it was time for him to go to bed, so we went downstairs and meltdown ensued.  She wanted to go upstairs again and I wouldn’t let her.  While we were in bed, talking about the day, I explained why she couldn’t go back upstairs.  Sam needed to go to sleep and he was going to nom with Mia.  He needed it to be quiet, so we needed to play downstairs.  I assigned words to her feelings.  I told her that she felt angry and mad because I wouldn’t let her go upstairs, and she showed me how angry and mad she was by crying and yelling really loud.  I knew she was listening carefully, but I wasn’t sure how much she understood until she reenacted her meltdown in a silly exaggerated way that made us both laugh.

Meltdowns are part of our everyday landscape now.  Some are worse than others.  I used to be able to squat down on my knees, open my arms to her and when she was ready, she would come to me, crying and upset, and let me hold her while she worked through it.  Now, it’s not so easy.  She hits and kicks and it’s often best for me to leave the room and take a minute for myself.  Engaging in a power struggle with a toddler is like fighting a land war in Asia.  Futile.  I thanked her for telling me how angry she felt.  I told her to keep telling  me how she feels because I love her and I want to know.  Then she crawled on me, put her face close to mine, touched my eyes and said, “Eyes.”  (She does this a lot right now–this identifying of body parts.) She touched my nose and said, “What’s this?”
“Nose,” I said.
Then she put her hands on my cheeks, pinched her lips together in a funny little slit (she is still trying out different puckering techniques) put her sweet baby mouth on my mine, touched my chin and said, “What’s this?”

Sometimes a door clicks.  The world falls open.  And my heart fills the space.