aware

I’m not sure that there is anything in my life that has taught me more about myself than having children. I used to think I was so self aware when I met Brad. I had come to a place of peace about who I was, or who I thought I knew I was, and felt confident in my abilities to adult. But since having kids I have become painfully aware of my lack of knowledge about myself and my ability to adult; how I would rather run and hide from grown-up responsibility, how selfish I am, how easily my emotions control me.

I had never previously known that I hate to feel like a failure. I hate it when I screw up. I suppose this feeling has always been there but in high school I never cared enough to try, never stretched myself beyond my perceived abilities. Well, there is no escaping that with children. You are stretched and pushed and pulled like taffy candy every single day. And heaven help your ego if you make one miss-step. 

Potty training is my kryptonite, my achilles heel, my one ring if you will. That may all sound extreme, but nothing else in my life has caused more temper flares and made me more aware of my “lack of” and my “need for” than anything else. Every time he does not have success with the toilet I have a failure. And it is becoming my undoing.