Sometimes it's hard.
And I'm not talking about all the dirty laundry and whining kids, either. What I am talking about is having to watch your kids go through hard things. I never realized just how difficult it would be for me to see them hurt. I cry when they have to get their shots. I can't handle it when they really injure themselves falling, or crashing into things, or whatever. (And I can totally tell the difference between the fake "I fell down and so I think maybe I am hurt but I'm not really sure because nothing hurts" kind of cry and the real McCoy.) And I really hate it when their tender little emotions are wounded. Bria's issues with Kindergarten bullies nearly killed me.
And then there's all the Mommy guilt. That's hard too. Of course, the two are completely intertwined. I often feel like the hard things my kids have to deal with are one hundred percent my fault. If I had been watching her better she wouldn't have fallen and her mouth wouldn't be bleeding and swollen. Maybe Bria was too young to put into Kindergarten, maybe I should have waited a year. Should I spread out shots? Should I not vaccinate? And so on and so forth.
Today, Chloe had to be put under a general anesthetic to get her "baby bottle mouth" fixed. Doesn't matter that she never took a bottle in her life because if I ever tried to give her one she looked at me with all the disgust such a tiny infant could muster and promptly spit it out. Because she still has all those cavities in her front teeth indicative of falling asleep with milk or juice bottles. I am pretty strict about going to sleep with water only, so I guess it was because she nursed till she was almost two. And when I say that, I mean she was still nursing 5 or 6 times a day at 20 months and could ask for it by name ("ah nus" and "uh side"). So, yeah, she spent quite a lot of time sleeping while nursing after she had her teeth.
So, for the two hours she was under this morning I was a nervous wreck. Because she really didn't like being in the hospital, fun as the nurses and the anesthesiologist were trying to make it for her. And I was worried about the procedure. All of the things that could possibly go wrong. And then I was feeling so guilty about her dental hygiene. Because when I was pregnant with Sophia I could barely take care of brushing my own teeth and relied on Joel to make sure the girls' teeth got done. But he wasn't used to doing that and so maybe he forgot. Maybe that's why she has so many problems. But maybe I shouldn't have nursed her for so long even though she was impossible to wean. I mean, here I thought I was doing something good and look at all the grief it's causing a couple years down the road. If only I had done something differently we wouldn't be here today. And so on and so forth.
But she did great. She rode off in the wagon happy because she was Dora and the anesthesiologist was Boots and they were going to have an adventure. She came back from recovery awake and happy to see me, although she did get progressively crankier as the anesthesia wore off. Her teeth look wonderful, and the Dentist said that everything went well and I shouldn't worry about her.
So I'll try not to.
It's just hard sometimes.