Skirmish – Toddler v Mother

My husband played skirmish today. It’s a highly dignified sport whereby grown men run around shooting each other with paint pellets. He came home grinning from ear to ear, despite the fact that he was totally covered in angry red welts from where he’d been “shot”. He told me that he’d been on the front line, so he’d had to take a few hits for the team. Most of the welts will be covered by his business shirt on Monday, but there’ll be no disguising the bruiser on his chin!

While he was playing skirmish, I was engaged in a battle of my own: a battle of wills. It’s a highly dignified sport whereby a small child challenges a grown woman on, well, everything. My toddler tried my patience, tested my limits, pushed the boundaries I set, and tried to convince me that she knew best all day.

By the end of the day I felt like my husband looked. I too, had been on the front line, taking hits for the team. I too, had been required to cop it on the chin. I didn’t have physical marks, but I was emotionally black and blue.

It’s tough parenting a toddler. You have to hope for the best, but be prepared for the worst. I’m learning that it takes a lot of determination to wake up every day with a positive attitude, leaving yesterday’s battles behind. It takes courage to stand firm while they poke and prod and push. And it takes mercy and grace to calmly end each day, assuring them that you love them regardless of their behaviour.

Oh, and on the really trying days (like today), it also takes the listening ear of a mum-friend, a big bowl of icecream and a long, hot bath.