Ah, Bono. You're a lyrical genius. A rock & roll god. The perfect image of a man....
Oh, I was going to talk about Rhiannon. Got off track thinking about Bono (insert teenage swooning sigh here).

Anyway, those lyrics kept playing through my head all last week. They perfectly describe what Rhiannon was going through. As I listened to her wail, and attempted to hold her through yet another meltdown, I could hardly think at all. Suffice it to say, last week was rough. I nearly hit the breaking point, but managed to hold on by my fingernails. Barely.

Rhiannon was going through one of her "testing" phases. She was asserting her will, frequently and loudly, with many, many tears. I was afraid to breathe next to her for fear of setting her off. If I would dare to suggest she do something, like *gasp* play outside, or switch to a different apparatus at gymnastics (which she loved the week before), it was devastating for her, and absolute torture simply because I mentioned it. And that was when it was something FUN for her. Imagine her despair when it was something she didn't want to do, like change a diaper or go to bed.

But, we weathered the storm, and she is back to being my sweetheart. She does this every so often. I guess she needs to verify that the boundaries are still in place. After she does that, she feels safe again, and things go back to normal. But, boy, did I mention it is HARD?!? I hate it - I felt like a lousy mother since it seemed all we were doing was fighting, and screaming (mostly her, sometimes me), and she spent a what seemed like hours having private "Rhia time". I'd much rather spend our days hanging out, since we're usually like two peas in a pod. But I guess parenting doesn't mean good times all the time.

I feel the urge to listen to some U2...