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The past few days have been a bit rocky. As an almost two-year old, Layla has been really into autonomy, which is excellent for her development, but which also means I have to chase her down to put on her diaper and her clothes; she climbs on anything in an attempt to reach everything above her head; and when she wants something, she wants it “now”. Add in a bit of teething, and we’ve got quite a little cocktail.

Yesterday, my frustrations with the “terrible twos” (which I think is a terrible name, by the way. I don’t dare call my daughter terrible because she’s trying to figure out the way she should relate to her environment) came to a big fat head. We had met a friend and her son at Whole Foods for tea and snacks. As soon as Layla saw the bakery sections, she immediately wanted “Bread! Cookies! Treats!” and cried until I found something on the healthier side for us to share. When I was waiting in line to order my tea at the café counter, Layla discovered the plastic tubs of raspberries and wanted to take them off the display. She then climbed onto a shopping cart, threw the paper cup of water I had filled to pacify her onto the ground, and nearly toppled a neat stack of apples when she decided she wanted to take one fruit from the bottom. The entire day was filled with disciplining and repeating no, no, no.

I felt like a mean, ugly, horrible, terrible monster of a mommy.

The mom I was yesterday is not the mom I want to be. I want to teach Layla right from wrong but do so from a place of patience and understanding, so I’ve decided to take action.

In my yoga classes and when I practice at home, I set an intention before I move through the asanas. I dedicate my physical and spiritual effort to somebody who I think needs a little healing energy: Benazir Bhutto’s memory and the people of Pakistan, the children in an orphanage I saw on the Today Show, the health of my family. As I sweat and focus, I concentrate on sending positive thoughts and prayers through the window I face in the living room and into the world.

When I woke up this morning, I decided to set an intention for myself. I opened my eyes but didn’t rush to the bathroom to wash my face or to the kitchen the start the coffee: I took five minutes to lay in bed in the dark, breathe deeply, and to ask for patience. I said, “thank you for this life and this day, please give me patience, let me be kind, let me laugh.” Then I slid into my slippers and made oatmeal and coffee.

The intention I set this morning didn’t fast forward me and Layla through this sometimes trying developmental stage, but my sense of humor and my patience rose out of dormancy, out of the cave of hibernation in which they’ve hid for the past few days. When my little munchkin ran away half dressed, I sat on the floor, watched her scurry down the hallway, then (magically) back into my lap, where I could quickly slip on her shirt. When she spilled down her shirt the milk she insisted on drinking out of an open cup by herself, I laughed at her milk mustache and wiped her off.

Our day together was much more calm and fun when I took the time to shift my attitude this morning. I have discovered I am a better parent when I center myself with an intention … because I refuse to believe that children are bad. Children need guidance, and good guidance can only come from a patient caretaker.