It happened

She's dissed her Mummy.

My little girl has reached the stage where she doesn't want me. Correction: she doesn't know what she wants, but she doesn't want Mummy. But she does. But she doesn't. But she wants me in the room. But she doesn't want me to look at her. Or be too close.

Holy FUCK. 'Scuse me for swearing. But this is hard. This week is harrrrd. I understand this happens, a lot, to a lot of people, I just think it's compounded by the fact that ... well, quite plainly, she's the only one I've got here, so to speak. And there goes a reference to Ella again. A lot of this parenting of Lolly seems to come back to my firstborn. Go figure.

I have to remind myself mentally that it's just a phase (please dear GOD all you mummies reading please reassure me of that). She loves me. Underneath all that anger and the snarky look on her face when she tries to gouge out a pound of my flesh before running (oops, sorry, I mean scooting on her knees) to Daddy, she does still love me.

I thought she'd love and want and need me for a little while longer yet. Thought the cessation of the tiringly demanding "MUMMEEEEEEEEE" cries would be a welcome end. But just three days without them and I admit to feeling kinda slapped in the face - though putting on a brave soldier-on-with-Codral face (without the Codral) all the while - and trying valiantly to appear unphased by her mood change.

And I am woefully blaming myself for her sudden eruption of ...... is this the Terrible Two's? I shamefully admit to thinking it was a myth. Yet another one of those things that "no child of mine, because I'll parent sooooooooooooo much better than anybody I've ever observed, will ever do". My God, what a cosy perch I was sitting on before I ever had a baby.

But there are moments. You know. Those moments when it's just so darn gorgeous through the wretchedness. We took a walk late this arvo to the shops. Bought some supplies for dinner (and some wine, yee har). The LGBB wanted out of her pram so I attempted to encourage her to "use your feet" - a tactic suggested by her Gymbaroo teacher, which is working, praise be! - and she saw Daddy sit down on a courtesy bench outside the store with the shopping bags and wanted to sit up there too. Taking her seat next to him, she motions to me (I had been idly standing by, pathetically hoping I'd be summoned by Her Ladyship) to "Mummy you sit there?" and points to the seat next to Steve. So I dutifully sit. And then the three of us are grinning and just .... sitting .... like a trio of mugs.

And then Steve says, "What're we doing?" to nobody in particular. You know what my girl said?

"Waiting for boys."

I love her. I do.