Kendi is 3 years old. She’ll be 4 in July and she’s an absolute dream to be around. So sweet and helpful, obedient and always willing to compromise, and super supportive of everything and everyone.

Now I know that you know that this is what I wish was my life. But, we all know that I know that that isn’t Kendi at all. She’s actually a nightmare, and sometimes a daymare. I cannot wait for her to turn 4 if this is 3! I am so tired, I can’t describe it.

‘How do I love this child?’ I ask myself in the dead of night.

‘Please Jesus, give me grace. Give me patience’ I plead as soon as she wakes up (she’s crying over something and throwing her hands in the air. She literally just woke up. We haven’t even spoken. I just don’t understand)

‘I don’t want my child to think I hate her’ I whine to myself in the shower.

‘I cannot do this!’ I silently scream as Kendi sulks, folds her arms and goes to sit in a corner for the millionth time today. I just want to cry, fold my arms and go sit in a corner.

‘Mama pleeeeaaaasssseeee, mia (give me) chocolate biscuit’, she asks for the 4th time in a row.

‘No Kendi, onge chocolate biscuit, cham snack machielo. Idwaro snack mane?’ (there are no chocolate biscuits, eat another snack. What snack do you want?) I point at the snack cupboard and give her a choice.

‘Chocolate biscuit’, she replies.

Onge. Idwaro mane?’ (There is none. Which one do you want?) I threaten to leave the kitchen, signaling that she wont be getting any snack after all.

‘Mama, noooooooo. Adwaro chocolate biscuit’ (I want chocolate biscuit)

‘Ok Kendi, nenre ni ok idwar any snack’ (It looks like you don’t want any snack) I shut the cupboard and leave the kitchen.

‘Nooooooo mama, noooooo mama, noooooo’ she’s crying and throwing herself on the ground.

I am stepping over her and going to scream into my pillow. I just want to kill myself!

Showing love, being loving, showing patience, being patient, spending time with her, hugging and kissing her, holding her when she’s genuinely hurt or sad, are all things I am struggling with. Seriously struggling. Not the ‘I’m-really-struggling-between-white-and-champagne-for-the-wall-color-in-my-new-house’ kind of struggling. This is the ‘I’m-really-struggling-to-have-a-baby-but-my-doctor-says-it’s-a-1-in-600-chance-and-I’ve-been-trying-for-3-years-and-it’s-literally-now-or-never’ kind of struggling.

I love my child. With my heart, soul and mind. But I don’t want to be around her. How do I reconcile these two thoughts? Raising Kendi is taking a toll on my health and well being.

Also, no, I don’t feel like I’m failing as a parent, I just suspect a demon has possessed my child.

One thought on “Threenager

  1. I have a son who is also turning 4 in July….seems like they went to the same school of training 😂😂😂😂😂😂

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