Mercurial mood swings? Check.
Answering "I know" to almost everything I try to tell her? Check.
Wanting to wear my make up? Check.
Slow as molasses in the morning when we need to get out the door? Check.
Big opinions on what she'll wear or not wear? Check.
Experimenting with attitude and talking back? Check.
So...three and a half is proving to be pretty interesting around here. We've been having more battles than I'm comfortable with, so I'm trying to take a few steps back and examine where my frustration and lack of patience is stemming from. I mean, what do I care if she feels the need to repeat "hair ball" fifty times because it gives her the giggles? Who cares if my hair gets messed up by letting her brush it? Why not get the playdoh out every single day if she's asking for it?
Lately I am feeling the need to grab my girls, hold them close and soak in every nuance of their ages. It's all so fleeting. Lilah is closing in on a year (how did that happen?!) I sometimes can get so caught up in trying to keep crumbs off the floor and sticky fingers out of hair that I'm afraid I could be missing the truest nature of this precious time when they are little.
Everyone and I mean everyone says "enjoy them while they're young!" and for some reason that chipper bit of advice can sometimes really stress me out. Like, how dare I have any moments in which I'm not swooning over my children?
True story at Ann Taylor Loft a couple of weeks ago:
Woman: Oh, your girls are so beautiful.
Me: thank you!
Woman: Mine is all grown up.
Me: how old is yours?
Woman: Seventeen.
Me: Seventeen. What's that like?
Woman: Heartbreaking.
Me: (lump forming in throat) Oh...why?
Woman: Well, we just...we just used to be so close. And don't get me wrong, we have no real problems. We love each other very much. We just aren't...well, we just don't share as much or talk to each other as much anymore.
Me: (voice cracking, looking for box of tissues) Oh, that's my nightmare. I don't want that day to come. Ever.
Woman: (not unkindly) Oh, it will. But you have time. Now when my daughter asks me what I want for my birthday or Mother's Day, I tell her 'a hug' and I really mean it.
Me: (bursting into tears) Oh! Oh, that's so sad! Oh, that makes me so sad! I'm sorry...
(awkwardly making my way out of the store)
Now, some of my long time friends might think, "Aha! There's the weepy, cry-at-toilet-paper-commercials girl I've known forever!" and it's entirely possible that perhaps my hormones have all finally regulated back to their normal state and this will be happening on a regular basis again, but I think I'd better get a grip. Quickly.
I found myself explaining to a friend last night that it seems like Sadie is in a transition from being a toddler who needs to everything to be managed for her to a child who has opinions and ideas that need to be heard, respected and honored. It's a tough one, because her behavior vacillates greatly so I have to be really on the ball at all times in order to deal with her in a way that I can feel okay with and that is fair to her. Like, I have to be okay with letting her slither off the couch onto the floor while she pretends to be Ariel the Little Mermaid, but I have to lay down the law when she starts flopping and bouncing next to her 93 and a half year old great-grandmother or 11 month old sister.
This is about the age when children start to have a few lasting memories, and I'd really like them to be positive ones in which she feels carefree and cherished rather than ones where she feels rebuked and stifled. Just writing that feels bizarre. I mean, my God -- I love these children more than life itself and I want absolutely nothing but the best for them and yet I'm already worried about their lasting memories of me? See what I mean? I need to get a grip and lighten up. I've got a long way to go!
1 comment:
This reminds me of something that occured to me while shopping at the Ann Taylor Loft Outlet last year (gotta love Loft!). I was in the dressing room trying on tons of great, cheap stuff when I started to overhear the conversation in the next dressing room. It was a teenage girl and her mother. Everything the mother suggested would look good on the teen, the teen hated. Every compliment was met with sarcasm and criticism. She demanded and whined. I could literally hear the sadness in the mom's voice. Here's the thing. When I was a teenager, I WAS that girl. When the teenager stepped out for some reason, I wanted to yell over the stall to the mom and say, "Hang in there, mom! In about 10 years you are going to be best friends." It does get AWFUL but then it gets wonderful. My mom is one of my best friends and I feel badly that I was so mean to her. Then again, I'm sure everything I ever said was valid ;-)
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