To Love And Not Make Happy

My three-year-old is laying on his floor crying āI am not happyā. All I have to say is, āme either, kid, me eitherā. When I put him down for a nap he said ādonāt leave me alone. When you go bye-bye it make my heart feel brokenā. I donāt know where he learned that but I know that for years I have made mothering about making my kids happy, loved, and trying to give them everything they want. I had the intention of doing all of this because I wanted to care for them well, because I wanted them to know beyond the shadow of a doubt that they were loved. But, I wasnāt showing them love. I was making myself comfortable, I was surviving the night feedings, the newborn baby stage, the terrible-twos that move into terrible-threes. I was surviving feeling alone, being screamed at by kids, always having a bathroom companion. Everything felt difficult: sleeping, making breakfast, getting people out the door, getting people back in the door, making dinner. All the normal, everyday life sit...