sin has tornadoed its way through our house today, destroying everything in its path.
During the last few hours I found myself in the trenches of motherhood, not knowing what to do, face to face with Ada's sin, my sin, my inadequacy. In tears, I called Scott, my mother, over and over again, "Help me," I said, "I don't know what to do."
I just wanted her to obey. Simple as that. She refused to obey. Simple as that.
I tried spanking and pinching and talking and taking away over and over and over again, and she disobeyed and disobeyed and disobeyed over and over and over again.
It was nap time, and I needed her to stay in her room. I can't make her sleep, but I don't think it's unreasonable to expect a three year old to rest. I don't think it's unreasonable for this 28 year old to want to rest. And she refused to stay in her room, and you can fill in the details, which included her hitting me (lots of hitting), and finally, I took her blanket away, and that did the trick. But only after we were both exhausted and broken and sad. Very sad.
At the beach Ann asked me if I thought age two was harder than age three, and my answer then was that I didn't know. Today, I shout it from the roof tops, "THREE IS HARDER. IT FEELS LIKE THE HARDEST OF ALL."