I'm so homesick and tired of being alone with the kids I could scream. And screaming, I do do, unfortunately, at them. Or cry. Yes, I know I am fortunate to have two healthy children. Children who have never been victims of shooting or any other sort of violence. Yes, I know that I am privileged in that neither kid has had to go to daycare in the first 3, if not 5 years of life. I know. I know it could be so much worse. But it could also be better. It could be, and hopefully will be better, when I have friends to see and talk to. It will be better when I have family to form a support network. It will be better when I no longer feel like an alien. America is lovely, yes. But I'm an alien. My natural penchant for self-loathing seems to be exacerbated by this environment, which definitely does not help me in the mothering department. A woman with whom I feel a special kinship, mostly because she's a bit of a princess dark cloud, like me, said to me last summer, "in some ways, these years with small children are the worst years of your life." Maybe not everyone feels this way, and I certainly don't feel this way every day, but I think (it has to be so) that it's okay to feel this way sometimes, or even most of the time. Having kids is effing hard.
Transitioning Josée to a bed is not going well. Need I say more? I sort of patted myself on the back after N got through her terrible threes. She's obedient, respectful of authority, bright, plays the cello... yay her. Yay us. Josée, on the other hand, makes me feel like the worst parent ever. She scoffs at authority and resists every correction or instruction. She's so unlike me that I have no idea how to help her. With all of this being said, however, she has a very sunny/uncomplicated disposition that I desperately do not want to break. Help. How does one parent a happy, yet obstinate, child?