Yesterday I didn’t see a two year old; I saw a reflection of me on my worst day. I saw exhaustion, frustration and emotional anxiety brewing a tantrum.
Yesterday I saw my failures trying to trample my triumphs.
Yesterday I saw a dark cloud and it walked around my better judgment leaving post-it notes of what if, why not, should have, could have and didn’t. It pushed buttons and left unadvisable suggestions.
Yesterday I measured motherhood by progress, not patience.
Yesterday I thought I saw myself as good a Mother as I am ever going to be and the vision was disappointing.
Yesterday I cried.
Today I saw him for what he is; past the milestones been and to be, past the communications via tears and/or cuddles, past the hopes I have for him and the mistakes I’ve probably already made and may make.
Today I saw his cheeks, white and fluffy, feeling their bounce with my gaze. I saw his clear blue eyes appear confused, glazed and tired even, because he should be tired. All he does is run, jump and destroy. That’s got to be tiring.
Today I saw his pouty pink lips, a gift from his father, pursed together to say a word or sentence that he can’t quite get out just yet.
Today I saw his little fingers tapping at the car window as he counted trees, starting from four and counting up in three’s, then two’s and then backwards; basically not really counting at all. My initial response was to feel discouraged as I know he can count perfectly well from one to ten, instead I saw his little mind bouncing as quick as the white lines disappeared under our moving car.
Today I saw him smile, not at me, (god forbid) but just at whatever, whatever it was that flickered past his thoughts and made him smile.
Today I saw my two-year-old son for the age that he is, two. A pleasant reminder that allowed me to catch my breath, slow my roll and give the finger to yesterday.
Today I smiled.