So it's NOT her. *Sigh of relief*

I had a revelation the other day--actually a series of revelations that made me feel tremendously better about myself as a mother and a person.

Over the course of the past couple weeks, I think since we reached "maximum bored with summer" status, I feel I've been increasingly frustrated with N.  Carping at her about everything, it seems.  And I don't like feeling this way.  I don't want N to remember her childhood as one in which her mother was critical about everything she did.

Now some of this, I recognize, is simple mother-daughter stuff.  And some of it is trying to manage a 6-year-old while keeping the 2-year-old from doing everything the 6-year-old does.  And some of it is throwing a 9-month-old in the mix and trying to stay sane.

But I was seriously wondering if I just didn't like N at all.

And then I had my first "A-HA!" moment.  I read a blurb about Ayelet Waldman, the writer who caused quite a flurry when she said she loves her husband more than her four children, in which she noted that she wasn't very good with young children but has found herself being really good as a mom with her older, teen children.

When I decided to become a teacher, I knew middle school would be a good fit for me and didn't even consider working with elementary-age children.  And this past school year, when I would visit N's kindergarten class, I was exhausted within 30 minutes of watching all of the whirling dervishes.  So why should my feelings as a teacher be different from my feelings as a mother?

Why is it so wrong to dislike a certain stage of child development when I feel no qualms about loving a particular stage.....like from 13 - 40 months?

My second "A-HA" moment was when I remembered how I used to get with D before we had kids and were on vacation.  Within 2 days of being with him constantly without a break....sleeping, eating all meals, spending all day....I was SICK TO DEATH OF HIM.  I found myself needing a break from the  togetherness.

I don't seem to get this way with the boys, I think because they nap during the day, allowing me some freedom, a break from them.  N doesn't nap, so even if she doesn't want me to play with her she asks me for a snack or asks me to help dress a Barbie or asks me to watch her do some kind of trick (you know, the "Watch me, Mom" stuff).

Even though these "It's not you; it's me" realizations made me feel better, they also made me wonder why in the world I am a stay-at-home mom, but that is a blog for another day.  For now, I'm just relieved to know that my feelings about my daughter have more to do with my own quirkiness than her annoying-ness.