Here I stand..in the light of day...

For those with children or for those who just live on planet Earth, you know that the subsequent lyric finishing the title is that the cold never bothered her anyway. I wish I was as resilient, independent, strong, beautifully proportioned and stylish as that Elsa chick, but then again, she never had a toddler. You think you're stressed now Elsa? 

So "here I lie, and here I disintegrate. Let the screaming rage on...I've now become immune to it anyway." Is how I think the lyrics would probably go if Elsa had a kid and sang about that. Let me tell you about yesterday. 

Background: My husband has gone back to the UK to sort out some stuff and obtain a work visa before moving back here semi permanently. Pickle has had ups and downs. But the downs have become more difficult for me to navigate, as I have had a taste of what it's like to be a single parent. We prepared her of course, I did everything right, or so I thought; I bought a globe and an airplane, I showed her where daddy is going, we said Daddy will go to England to get your dolly, we drew pictures of daddy leaving, I told her nursery all about it, I've been letting her sleep in my bed while he's gone...(don't tell anyone. It's just easier that way), we've been talking on the phone with him every day, and I have been giving her the benefit of the doubt (like, I doubt you'll remain an emotional terrorist and destroyer of worlds when daddy is back). But inevitably, sometimes the understanding, gentleness and patience runs out, like a path in the woods that started wide and full of promise, but just ends in brambles, disappointment and no clear way forward. Sometimes mummy just wants to go and put her head in the oven. 

So, yesterday we went swimming with one of my friends from high school and her children. Beautiful day, playground first, lots of laughter and connection, then into the swimming pool, cute as buttons in their unicorn swimsuits, and then, the screaming started. Pickle will only come swimming with me if she is surgically attached, so we walk in as one monster, similar to the one in Julia Donaldson's fabulous book "Room on a Broom" where the frog, the cat, the dog and the bird arise dripping with mud from the swamp and scare off the dragon who's about to eat the witch by saying "Buzz off, that's my witch!" in one voice.

This swimming monster, comprising of mummy and a pink and gold koala bear, then gently lowered itself down into the water, and for a few minutes, I was shocked into silence as a pure, high pitched scream pierced my left ear drum and penetrated my consciousness to the point where I actually may have slipped into a temporary coma. I saw most of the windows crack and crash to the ground, and I have never been able to hear out of that ear again.

I have no idea what was wrong, as the screaming continued, I think it was that I had one arm slightly higher than the other, or that I wasn't holding the pool noodle at the correct angle, or possibly that I was wearing the wrong shade of black. The mystery was never solved as to what was the problem, but I am sure my infraction was heinous and deserving of this mind bendingly insane reaction. 

The rest of the time I was allowed to sit on the highest step with my feet in the water, Pickle's body firmly glued my knees. At one point, I was instructed to go a bit lower into the water, whereupon my leg was weed on. Pickle told me, smiling angelically, that she was, in fact, currently weeing on me. I aks ya.

Last night, halfway through last night she wanted to come and sleep with me. Fine. It's the fourth night she has done that so I'm used to it. At least when she wakes up she doesn't start yelling about sea monsters until I come in and stroke her hair and tell her it's all going to be okay and sea monsters aren't real and here's some sea monster spray let's spray the sea monsters away and she just ends up coming into my bed anyway. This paragraph was going to be a story about how my day was with her today, but writing it depressed me, and just made me feel more stressed. Suffice to say that if there is a battle to be fought, she will fight it. If there is control to be taken, she will take it. If there is shit to be stirred, she will stir it! She is full of joy, of life, passion, curiosity, creativity and so so much more, but right now she is GRINDING me into the f-ing ground! 

This morning, it took me an hour to bribe, threaten, cajole her into eating her lovely porridge with bananas and honey. An HOUR. Refusal to the death all the way through. Alright, I keep saying to her. Then we will just go to daycare without breakfast. Boots on, coat on, keys in my hand, "let's go!" and she decides, three seconds before we leave, that she's now going to sit down and eat her porridge. Which she does without blinking. And then she asks for and eats another bowl. FML

But there is this interesting paradox within me, as I observe her fighting for her life inside her beautiful little golden head, while her world is spinning upside down a million times a second with all this change and abandonment of everything she knows and loves, as she is desperately trying to make sense of something, anything, grabbing onto any bits of debris that whirl into her orbit so that at least she can hold a piece of chaos for herself and it won't go flying off into an unending expanse of confusion, when she is screaming and kicking me and telling me to go away, I generally let her do that for a while, and then say "do you need a cuddle?" mid screech, to which she almost always acquiesces. And so I enfold this adorable, soft, golden, curly, cuddly, sweet smelling, gently sobbing creature into my arms, and intertwine with her essence, and all I want to do is hold her forever, protect her, love her, and all she wants to do is be held, feel safe, and be loved. She doesn't stop crying during this time, but she nuzzles into me so hard that I get the highest high that my brain can handle. I am caught in this wildly paradoxical storm of ecstasy and exhaustion, of bliss and stress. It's very strange. But I'll take it. Every. Single. Time. 

Thanks for reading x