Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Well, for starters, my parents and I took my little Emma-doll to the National Western Stock Show and Rodeo this weekend. YEEE-HAWWW! We had so much fun. I always had this dream of marrying a cowboy and each year when I go to the rodeo I remember why! I think I'm going to suggest next year that in addition to the cow exhibit, the sheep exhibit, the horse exhibit... that they need to have a cowboy exhibit. We get to talk to and pet the animals, so why not the cowboys? Okay, I'm KIDDING!!!! Sort of. Okay, I'm not kidding.
Anyway, there really is this soft spot in my heart for all things cowboy-ish, right down to the cute little black boots Emma was wearing. How ridiculous is it that I started crying when the rodeo started? I was hoping my mom and dad wouldn't look over and notice that I was all teary. There's just something about the sounds and the smells (ooohhh how I love the smell of cow manure - no, really!) that just makes me so happy and makes me feel all romantic or something. It makes sense in my head.
In other news... we had company over Sunday night. They're dear friends of ours, but we don't get together with them very often. I really don't think they'd ever leave judging us at all, but I felt like a mommy-failure by the time they left. We offered their 20-month old son juice - "Oh, we don't give our son juice. He only drinks water." Strike one. It was too late to explain that we water Emma's down. A ton. So then we urged Emma to play with him, and she ran over and turned on the TV. Strike two. So I'm making the pasta and boiled it over. Okay, not a big deal, it's just that that's when they caught the fact that I was making Pasta-Roni. Oh yeah, that's right, Pasta-Roni. I'm no Martha Stewart. I don't cook. "Pasta-Roni?" our guests commented. "I don't think they sell that at Whole Foods." Strike Three. Follow all of that with a night of out-of-control Emma and I just breathed a sigh of relief when they left!
I don't know what Emma's deal is lately, but I'm about ready to ask if I can trade my two-year-old in for two one-year-olds. Do they make deals like that? Seriously, I don't know what to do with her. I'm taking a great parenting class right now that talks about the freedoms that are appropriate for each age, and I'm afraid we've been giving Emma more freedoms than she can handle and now we're paying for it. I need to process all I've learned, but I'm pretty sure we've dug ourselves a hole that's gonna take a lot of work and perseverance to get out of. But we can do it. Last night was the struggle that broke Gary and I. After hours of her crying and screaming because she didn't want to go to bed, we just looked at each other feeling so helpless and out of patience! As I lay (laid? layed? lied?)in bed last night chewing over the day and reviewing my options as to how to control my little girl, I committed to praying for her every day. I pray for her now, but I need to be more intentional about it because I can't do this on my own. If I do my part, I'm confident I'll begin to see changes in her... and me.