My terrible 2 year old…

My 2 year old is crazy. She’s strong and smart and beautiful but she’s 2 so she’s crazy.

Being 2 must be rough. She cries, whines and throws tantrums daily. Every. single. Day. As hard as it is for her, I’m the one that’s on the verge of a mental breakdown almost ALWAYS.

You’ve heard the term “terrible two’s”. My child is the definition of terrible most days. I don’t always take showers because by the time my day is ending I don’t have the energy to stand anymore. It’s pretty much pure chaos from the time she wakes up until bedtime. If I’m lucky there’s a nap somewhere in between but that’s happening less and less these days.

Its just me trying to divert her attention from all the tiny disasters that can happen in a day. She has the wrong panties on, the wrong shoes on, she wants to play outside but it’s pouring rain. She doesn’t want to eat, then she does. She doesn’t understand why I hate when she pulls all the pots and pans out of my kitchen cabinets. She doesn’t know what’s so bad about writing all over herself and my house with a permanent marker. She doesn’t get why I have a meltdown when she gets into all my makeup and it ends up in the trash.

I prayed for this. I wanted her so bad I couldn’t stand it. We’ve lost several babies before her and one after her. To me she’s this perfect little disaster of a miracle. God knew I needed this child.

My goal everyday is to be her soft spot. I don’t mean to raise my voice, I don’t mean to lose my temper but the 50th time I have to pick up 52 magnetic letters up from all over the house, I tend to not be so gentle when I say “They belong on the refrigerator!!!”

Kennedy Faye Richards is my littlest baby. Not only is she my baby, she’s my last baby. There will be no more. The hysterectomy I just had officially confirmed that.

Together my husband and I have 6 kids. 6!! 25, 21, 18, 14, 13 and her a 2 year old. During the months and months that we were trying for her people thought we had lost our minds.

The good news for her is she’s got 5 older siblings (2 are mine biologically) that taught me to keep my cool. I’ve learned from the things I’ve done wrong, things I could’ve done better. Most of my regret with being their mother has a lot to do with my lack of patience. I have a second chance at being the kind of mother I always thought I’d be.

When it’s late and I can’t bare the thought of another meltdown but there she is, melting down, I’m thankful. When I lay her in bed and stare at her sweet  face, while I rub her back until my arm feels like it might fall off. I can’t believe just how lucky I am. When I’d rather be on Facebook than listen to her say the same things over and over again, I look in that little girls eyes and she thinks its the most important thing I’ve heard all day.

There isn’t anything in this whole world that I’d change about this sweet but also salty, funny, brilliant and gorgeous girl that I get to call my baby.

I hang on the fact that she won’t be 2 forever. Some days that thought saves me from running away. Some days it hits me like a punch to the stomach. I will cherish every single day of being her mother. The good days and the bad.

She has been such a joy to us and our families. I can’t remember life without her and I don’t care to. Our world is brighter because she’s here.

I have to laugh through the craziness and know that she’s growing everyday. One day she will be a woman. I hope she knows then and hope she knows now that she taught me a whole new way to love and there’s nothing I’d trade for these days with her.

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