It embarasses me that sometimes I can totally see myself in my 2 year old. F had a playdate with one of our neighbors and we chose not to send L along with him. Sometimes, the big kids just need big kid time without a little toddler in tow. L was completely and totally distraught to see his older bro skipping joyfully off to a couple hours of boyish debauchery with our neighbor kid with him left to stay with his boring and uncool parents.
L had the tantrum of the century. He begged to go outside and accompany his brother, but J and I refused. We offered him all sorts of alternatives, but he wasn’t having any. No he didn’t want to color. No he didn’t want to watch a movie. No he didn’t want to play with stinking Playdoh. J offered to truck him down to our local park for some playtime, but he screamed bloody murder and insisted that Mama take him. The boy begs for our solo attention and he finally has it, but chooses to tantrum instead.
I got our little distraught toddler dressed and carried him down to the park. Once we arrived at the park, I insisted that he walk to the Firetruck Play Structure. He’s getting heavier and heavier every day. I can only carry him so much before my back and arms begin to ache. He screamed and cried while clutching onto my legs. Here we were, exactly where he wanted to be, but he refused to even run or walk through the park. After much negotiations and standing my ground, despite his loud cries and tear covered face, I convinced him to walk the couple feet to the playground. He refused to play. He stayed clutched to me fiercely. It probably took a good 20 minutes of negotiating before he actually played. He just stared at me angrily and stayed attached to my arms.
This is me. This is me to a tee. I get so stuck in getting my way and doing things my way, that I can’t even see straight. I sometimes have my things so planned out in my head, that I can’t fathom things not going as planned. I just focus on how I need things to go my way, even if the way things are going are just as fine. And instead of trying to adapt and go with the flow, I freak out. I panic. I can’t see straight.
I see that I am totally and utterly focused on the number of a scale. The number on the scale is not the number that I want. I feel like I am failing. I feel like I am losing the race. I feel like I have not reached the finish line. I feel incomplete and disappointed. I am in the midst of my temper tantrum. Here I am , at my health playground, with opportunities for fun and joy all around, but I am focused on the fact that I am not the number that I had envisioned on the scale. I am a healthy BMi, I am 3 sizes down. I am 10 times as strong. I can keep up and surpass my kids. I can do multiple chin ups and push ups. I am going to stop freaking out about the scale. I am just going to play for a bit. I am going to enjoy these sunny days and appreciate where I am right now. No point in pouting and focussing on the failure of the previous plan. Plans are meant to be changed sometimes.
MelMelKel
pgarakani
12monthstohealthy 