Finally, finally something clicked and I've had two consecutive days now where I didn't feel like blowing my brains out. Things haven't been easier, not really. But I've felt more calm and even. Ivy kicked over a glass of water on the table this morning (because of course she was sitting on the table) and as I mopped it up with a kitchen towel that had already dealt with more than its fair share of spills that hour it occurred to me that a few weeks ago, I would've been in tears by now. I guess I finally got a little bit of a grip.
It helps that I'm finally feeding myself the way I feed Rob and my children. I pack my lunch every day now. For Christmas I got new glass food storage containers from both Rob's mom and my mom, and I'm using them to portion out multiple lunches ahead of time. Protein, starchy vegetable, and leafy greens all nestled together, ready to be microwaved at noon.
Eating meals and not just whatever comes to hand makes it easier to roll with the toddler punches. Finding a groove with two-year-old Ivy has been challenging. She's firmly in the Everything You Do is Wrong stage, where she asks me for a banana and then looks offended and turns away when I hand one to her. I don't know how much to go along with this impossible, unfair game. As much as I want to pull my hair out when Ivy shrieks at me to pour her smoothie in the blue cup—"not dat blue cup, de udder blue cup!"—she's two, and when you're two the color of your cup and picking your own straw and which socks you wear matter. So I let it be okay that it matters to her right now, because this two shall pass.