The highlight of this week can be summed up in one sentence:
I dropped TD3 off to daycare and left her milk at home.
And I felt horrible. And nothing else matters. Or at least that’s how it felt in the moment.
My overly dramatic emotions eventually came down to normal-ish levels and I went on about my week. Which, all things considered, was pretty good.
TD3 is doing well. She’s taken to self-soothing with clothe-flavored hands. And apparently, we’re not feeding her enough as she decided it was a good idea to grab a handful of my rice and lunge headfirst at T-Daddy’s baby carrots. Her pediatrician wants us to wait two more months before introducing solids, but I’m not sure TD3 got that memo.
On a slightly sadder note, TD1 shared that she’s sad that none of her friends from her old school have emailed her or added her on messenger. It was a little heartbreaking trying to explain seasonal friendships to her. And I realized that nothing I could say would make it hurt less. As an adult, this is still something that’s hard to accept. That it’s hard for even the most well-meaning friends to keep in touch when life takes you different places. I also tried to reassure her that we’d try as hard as we could to have play dates. But man, I hate to see my baby hurt. Plus, I’m trying to fight my “Mama’s gotta fix it” urges to be more of a safe space to just sit with her.
Some of my hardest mommy moments are facing the things I can’t fix. But this week has helped me be a little more okay with it. Maybe next week, we can work on my control issues.
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