Yes. I should enjoy playing with her because I wanted to have a child, and before she was born I wanted to do everything right for this child. More than anything, I want her to know she is likeable, and that means getting down on the floor and playing with her. Enjoying being with her doing what she does. (Its easy to love your child. Its pretty hard not to. But love doesn't mean much... my parents loved me, but didn't like me. I would much rather have been liked and not had the love part, which had more to do with them than me anyway). I should enjoy playing with her because she can tell when I am not enjoying it, and that hurts her. I should play with her because it strengthens our attachment, stimulates her cognitive and social growth, and makes her laugh delightedly.
Yes.
I enjoy playing with her in short bursts. I enjoy playing with her when we are doing something that is also interesting to me. I enjoy playing with her when she is learning something new and I'm helping her do that.
But much of the time, I find play tedious. My mind wanders. I don't want to come charging out of the bedroom with my red rescue cape on saving the cow (DD) from the bear a thousand times. I feel physically tired most of the time. I feel trapped by these games. When I try to find something that is more interesting for me, she is not interested (reading a book, drawing, painting, etc). When I'm sitting on the floor playing with her I find my mind wandering and I start cleaning and tidying up, then she tries harder to get my attention (Mama! Mama! Help me! A twister's coming!) then I feel guilty for not giving her my whole attention. I'm trying to type this and think about this and she keeps pushing the keys on the keyboard, so I have to re-write the sentence, and I know she wants my attention, but we just spent 20 minutes cracking open eggs and cooking them, and now I want to be here, writing, only I'm only half here.
She won't get dressed and get in the car to go somewhere without a huge fight. Then I feel horrible for forcing her, even though she enjoys herself when we get to the park or wherever. I try to make it fun for her but rarely succeed. She is suddenly fearful about going outside. So often I am not up to the battle and don't try. We are stuck in 800 sq. feet with the same old boring toys. I should be able to find play that is interesting for the both of us, but I am too tired, or too stupid, or too unimaginative, to try very hard.
Guilty. Trapped. Inadequate - I should enjoy playing with my child; its why I had a child! She deserves a happy, playful mama. Restless, angry. I feel a ball of anger in my chest. My shoulder muscles are tight and sore. I feel a little panicked - there's no where to turn, no where to go, except to give in and play, resentfully, unhappily. There's a lump in my throat; I feel like crying the more I think about this.
Yes.
I enjoy playing with her in short bursts. I enjoy playing with her when we are doing something that is also interesting to me. I enjoy playing with her when she is learning something new and I'm helping her do that.
But much of the time, I find play tedious. My mind wanders. I don't want to come charging out of the bedroom with my red rescue cape on saving the cow (DD) from the bear a thousand times. I feel physically tired most of the time. I feel trapped by these games. When I try to find something that is more interesting for me, she is not interested (reading a book, drawing, painting, etc). When I'm sitting on the floor playing with her I find my mind wandering and I start cleaning and tidying up, then she tries harder to get my attention (Mama! Mama! Help me! A twister's coming!) then I feel guilty for not giving her my whole attention. I'm trying to type this and think about this and she keeps pushing the keys on the keyboard, so I have to re-write the sentence, and I know she wants my attention, but we just spent 20 minutes cracking open eggs and cooking them, and now I want to be here, writing, only I'm only half here.
She won't get dressed and get in the car to go somewhere without a huge fight. Then I feel horrible for forcing her, even though she enjoys herself when we get to the park or wherever. I try to make it fun for her but rarely succeed. She is suddenly fearful about going outside. So often I am not up to the battle and don't try. We are stuck in 800 sq. feet with the same old boring toys. I should be able to find play that is interesting for the both of us, but I am too tired, or too stupid, or too unimaginative, to try very hard.
Guilty. Trapped. Inadequate - I should enjoy playing with my child; its why I had a child! She deserves a happy, playful mama. Restless, angry. I feel a ball of anger in my chest. My shoulder muscles are tight and sore. I feel a little panicked - there's no where to turn, no where to go, except to give in and play, resentfully, unhappily. There's a lump in my throat; I feel like crying the more I think about this.








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But we are learning. I am learning to clarify without getting mad, and he is learning that my clarification questions are not an indictment, but are honest requests (well, they are now
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This, too, shall pass. Everything will work out for the best. Take care, mama!
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