Too

I've had some moments that aren't going to make the highlight reel of motherhood.

Take, for instance, my "argument" with my 23-month-old the other morning. After Claire threw everything out of her crib, a shrill "NO!" looping on repeat, I too became two. In a less than stellar performance, I countered with "Stop it!" and tossed a blanket in the corner for good measure.

She blinked at me, startled, breath hitching. Mom had officially lost it.

I hugged her without saying anything and for the next twenty minutes, we were very careful with each other. She played in her crib, singing along with the Wiggles while I headed to the shower to regather myself. Water pounding on my head, I contemplated my reflection in my husband's shaving mirror. There, blinking back at me, was my inner two-year-old.

Sometimes, in the heart of one of Claire's outbursts, I look at her face and know exactly how she's feeling. I see her emotion and imagine how freeing it would feel to be able to express myself without filter. If only I could fling myself to the floor in stubborn refusal to give in to someone else's directions. If only I could be unapologetically honest. If only I could let all my feelings fly out without restraint - all of the good and bad and in-between ones - and not later dwell on how I should have handled things.

As Claire approaches the beginning of her 24th month, she's living in high definition. Everything she feels, experiences and expresses is intense and new and sometimes all-consuming. Jeff and I are amazed at her seemingly overnight development. The little girl who wakes up in the morning is somehow vastly different than the sleepy toddler we put to bed at night. Her transformation is bittersweet for us: we are in awe of the little human she's becoming but often homesick for the baby that she was. Time is passing a bit too quickly.

While in the midst of a battle of wills with my oldest daughter, I don't have the capacity to focus on the bigger picture of her development. When she throws food off her high chair or kicks in protest against riding in the stroller or yells at the dog to get out of her way, I can't sit back with Zen-like calm and think, "This too shall pass."

But the truth is, it will. The challenging Mom-moments always do. More importantly, the innocent freedom that allows Claire to show exactly how she feels will someday disappear. I hope that as she grows, I can be a safe place for her to turn.

When we talk, face to face with older eyes, I want her to know that I understand her emotions. Because, chances are, I'll feel them too.