Wednesdays are rough.

Dear Eliza,

We've had a rocky path to walk lately, you and me.  Some days there is nothing but blue sky and birds singing, and we walk hand in hand and everything is dandy, but lately... it's been difficult more often than I'd like to admit.  Mommy has found herself frustrated with you.  Fists clenched, gritted teeth... talking to myself in order to calm myself down... Mommy has needed more 'breaks' than usual.

And, usually, Wednesdays are rough.  Don't know exactly why... but that's been our pattern.

I want to be a better Mom.  Maybe I'm still in denial that I can't be that perfect mom, but I really don't feel like I'm doing a very good job.  Sometimes, I know I am not doing a good job and know that you deserve better.  But people tell me that's not true.  That I love you and that's all that matters.  I'm trying to believe this.  Every day I try to tell myself this.

But still, I feel like I'm not doing enough - that you deserve better, more.

You are a lovely, perfectly imperfect three-year-old.  You are so strong, so smart, and so sweet at your core.  You just want to touch me and to sit near me and hold my hand as walk up the stairs together... and I take that for granted.  I cry as I sit here typing this, because I am ashamed and sad: I am thinking about how annoyed I was this morning when you insisted you sit next to me on the bench at breakfast... I just wanted to sit by myself and eat my cereal, and I knew you'd want to touch me and crowd my space while I ate (something that parenthood has led me to learn is one of my pet peeves).  And now I think what an awful thought that was to have.  That someday, I will want to give anything for you to sit next to me just to be with me... that someday, you will no longer want to.  How could I not realize this at the moment, and just appreciate your sweet presence?

I think about how frustrated it makes me that you won't go upstairs to go to the bathroom alone, and how if I go up without you, you get upset.  But you are just a little girl who has some very normal fears and apprehensions that maybe you can't yet put into words.  And that's normal, and it's understandable, and it is okay.  And yet, I mutter to myself under my breath "when will she be able to go up the stairs alone???", wishing away this precious, still-vulnerable time in your life... and regretting it the very next moment.

I am so sorry.  I love you so deeply that it honestly scares me.  I am paralyzed with feelings of sadness and fear when I think about something happening to you, or to me, or to your daddy.  I love this little family of ours so much that it is scary.  I don't know if that makes any sense, the feeling is hard to describe.

I know that the transition we are all about to go through will bring about major winds of change in our family.  I know I am likely underestimating the changes it will bring about in you.  If I think too much about it, sometimes it makes me want to rewind, pause, or even just stop.  I'm scared.  At the same time, I am sure that I'm underestimating the amazingly wonderful things it will bring - the happiness and joy that will come with it.  The opportunities for growth and learning that it will offer you, my dear girl.  So, I will sit back and trust in you, and trust in our family to get through this in one imperfect piece.

I love you.