Daily gripes

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It's Thursday. Which means that wherever you go, people have that Thursday look about them. Wednesday's people are much less Thursday than Thursday's people. Everyone just looks very Thursday. Today I feel very, very Thursday. Last night I did not sleep, not because, for once, my gloriously adorable pickle woke me up because of bad dreams, or that she needed the loo, or that she was wiggling beside me in her sleep, but because every full breath that my gorgeous husband took throughout the night was swaddled in an ear splitting snore. I know tigers that would be jealous of how roary his snores get. 

So, today I woke up to my pickle being extremely arguments, and trying a thousand different tactics to get me to agree that she stay in bed, so the morning fighting, which has been almost non existent this week, resumed today. You know when your child, after not sleeping for 2 years, finally sleeps for a night, and you and your partner instantly start manically listing the things that could have made her sleep. "Well, she went to bed half an hour earlier last night, and she ate more vegetables than usual....no but she had chocolate pudding for dessert, which usually keeps her up later, okay but then she played with her friends in the afternoon, and they did a lot of bouncing, did they have avocado? She hasn't eaten avocado in ages, maybe that's it! But she only ate pancakes for breakfast, so not really enough protein and fresh fruit, oh wait! no she had a poo yesterday! and she had a poo the day before, and the day before that...that must be it? ah only she went to a birthday party the day before, and she had a massive meltdown at that, so that must have...." etc. ad nauseum. You are so desperate to find the magic pill that made her go to sleep, when in fact, it is nothing. There is no reason. 

My panic listing was because in the last few days, this whole school week in fact, Pickle has been a dream. Polite (almost regularly), starting to regulate by herself, listening more than usual, communicating, full of love, helping me make her after school snack, eating properly, taking a bath and letting me wash her hair, and getting up in the morning and getting dressed without (much of) a fight. What is different? I maniacally asked myself. What have we done that we need to keep doing? What is it? OMG WHAT?????!!!! But, deep down, I knew, there is not an answer. It's just a phase. Just like her bad phases are phases. She goes into chrysalis stages, where she is squashed, grumpy, hot, bothered, pissed off, and changing. She always emerges from these, more beautiful, more shining, and more vibrantly radiant than ever, joyfully free to spread her wings, to fly another day.

Thanks for reading x

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