When you become a mother, there are hundreds of things that no one warned you about. The bleeding nipples, the constant worrying, how you can both love and want to strangle your child at the same time. For me, ALL OF MOTHERHOOD was a shock because I never really paid attention when people with kids talked before.
But the thing that I am finding the most surprising, or perhaps the most difficult to deal with is that it has made very clear exactly what my mother did right. Lately though, it is becoming more and more obvious what she did wrong. Not that I didn't already go through therapy for a hundred years and deal with all my Mommy blame issues. Up until recently, I really thought I had forgiven her. I had decided that I was going to just use what I knew to not make the same mistakes with my child. And I do a really good job of providing Lila with structure where I had none.
There are plenty of things that I already knew about my mother. My mother (just like I do) suffered from a debilitating depression through most of my childhood. Because of this, she had little patience for my greedy desire for attention and would disappear at night to see her friends to be someone else for a few hours and forget her problems. The depression also made it hard for her to commit me to anything. No instrument lessons or dance or extra-curricular activities because committing me meant a commitment for her. I also know that she never pushed me, never gave me chores, never taught me to sat goals, never gave me boundaries. I always just slid by. I was smart. I was pretty. I was a kid and didn't know that I was lacking life skills because I was always able to talk myself out of any setback.
As a mother suffering from depression, I often find that I am too overwhelmed or exhausted to hear another whiny plea for a toy. I desperately want to just give in and let Lila watch TV all day and eat whatever the hell she wants because it is REALLY FUCKING HARD to sit there any listen to her cry when I ask her to do the things she needs to do. But I don't. Because my job as a parent doesn't allow me to. And as much as I want to take a handful of Xanax and walk away sometimes, I CAN'T. I understand the avoidance and withdrawal that my mother needed in order to preserve what little energy her illness left her with each day. I understand how much easier it would be to just decide I don't really care and just give in. It is easier to see your child happy than unhappy. I forgive her for feeling that way. Because I feel that way every day.
My mother is long recovered from her depression. She found medication that keeps the worst of it away and has worked out some of her own demons with a therapist. But here's the thing. As my child's daycare provider, the person who Lila spends several hours each day, my mother STILL does all these things. And it fucking infuriates me.
All the things that I demand of my child, all the ways that I try to mould her into a well-behaved, appreciative, cooperative kid is undone every single day. It seems that each time I pick her up, there is some argument with my mother because she has again disregarded my wishes and given something or allowed Lila to do something I have told her not to.
For example, (and believe me, this is just one) Lila was getting stomach aches. It occurred to me that she ate grilled cheese sandwiches a lot and those give ME stomach aches. So I told my mother not to give her any for the entire week to see if she still has stomach aches. And what did Lila have for lunch THE DAY AFTER I told my mother this? A MOTHERFUCKING GRILLED CHEESE SANDWICH. And when I asked my mother why the hell she gave Lila a grilled cheese sandwich, she shrugged and said, "that's what she wanted for lunch." I often have to remind my mother that Lila is 4. She wants an elevator in her bedroom closet and wants to get a pet Lion. Four year olds are not allowed to make every decision in their lives. That's why they need babysitters.
Of course, my mother maintains that she does these kinds of things because she is a GRANDMOTHER and that grandmothers are supposed to spoil their grand kids, which would be fine if Lila went over there once a month. But that's not even the point. Little things like this only remind me of why as an adult, I have such a hard time with moderation and why I am (illogically) crushed if I cannot get people to give me the things I want.
I have posted a few blogs about my mother spoiling Lila, and you will find plenty of examples here,
here, and also here of how my mother refuses to listen to me with regard to how I choose to raise my child. In her mind, I turned out just fine and so she must have done things right. BUT I DID NOT TURN OUT FINE!!! I am selfish (I was given whatever I asked for), I am lazy and unmotivated (there was never an incentive for doing anything or a punishment for not doing it) , I am very smart but cannot finish anything (no one ever made sure I did) and I have always been an underachiever (how do you push yourself if no one ever pushed you to do ANYTHING you said you didn't want to do?). Additionally, it never clicked that other people actually SET GOALS for the things they wanted to do and worked toward them until I was 26. I always just had things "happen" to me. Don't even get me started about money problems (my parents' view of money and credit are seriously fucking ridiculous - my mother believes in signing up for every credit card that she possibly can, and then maxing them out and making the minimum payments because "I won't be around that long anyway. I might as well get the things I want now before I'm dead. NO I AM NOT JOKING).
(I have already posted about how shitty I am as an adult HERE)
I KNOW that she gave these things to me. I blame her because my father just went along with whatever my mother said. And at some point in my mid-twenties, I realized that it was no longer her responsibility and it was up to me to try to change these deficiencies. And I really thought I had forgiven her because when I became a mother (and subsequently a mother with depression), I UNDERSTOOD why she did the things she did.
But I look at myself with Lila and I can't help but to be angry at my mother. Because I don't want to have to instill those things in her. I don't have any idea how to, because I suck at them myself. In fact, I want to be left the hell alone most of the time. But I know what I have to do. This isn't some transcendental knowledge or wisdom that I have. This is what fucking parenting is. It is all about responsibility. It is about loving someone enough to do what they NEED even of they fucking hate you for it. It is filled with difficulty and discomfort and headaches and insanity. But that's all just the basic part of the job.
Why did she do what was easy with me? And why does she refuse to listen when I try to tell her that love is not just buying Lila toys and letting her throw several blobs of raw cookie dough at the ceiling so she can laugh when it sticks (nope, not kidding about that either). It is about setting limits so that she knows what to expect. It is about making sure she is getting the foods she needs to grow and learn and feel good. It is about telling her that you will not tolerate bad behavior because you don't want her to grow up to be a total asshole. She does not understand this. She says she does, but she reverts to the things that I described the next day.
This makes me feel disappointed in her. I am disappointed that she didn't do better with me. I am disappointed that she never bothered. I am disappointed that she thinks love is about temporary happiness, even if it destroys the future potential. I am just so fucking sad about it.
Showing posts with label Temper Tantrums. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Temper Tantrums. Show all posts
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Sorry is (apparently) the Hardest Word to Say
Ben is really bad at apologizing. It isn't that he is a bad person. He tries really hard to do the right thing and I don't know that he has EVER intentionally hurt anyone. I don't even think he has it in him. But he just doesn't think he is ever wrong (or at least he can't admit when he is). It doesn't matter how glaringly obvious the emotional injury is or how many times I try to explain it, he just doesn't get that even though it wouldn't bother him, it really bothers me. So when he just gives in and apologizes just to shut me up (usually while rolling his eyes and saying "there, you happy now?'), we all know that it was only issued out of annoyance and/or pity.
Imagine the example this sets for a 4 year old.
A couple of days ago, Lila was climbing on/beating up Ben on the couch (as usual) and he moved the wrong way and accidentally pulled her hair (or hit her with an elbow, or something). She started crying and was very upset because she thought he had done it on purpose.
As mothers, we all know that there is no use in trying to explain to a 4 year old that it was not done on purpose and that there is no reason to be upset unless you really want to drag the tears out for 45 minutes. It's best just to say sorry and give a kiss to make it better and move on with your day.
Daddy doesn't see it this way. He simply told her to stop. That she wasn't really hurt. You can imagine how this went over. Naturally, she cried even harder.
"Say you're sorry, Daddy." I told him. "That's what you do when you hurt someone."
You might want to sit down when I tell you his response.
"I didn't hurt her. She did it herself. What should I apologize for?"
Go ahead. Let that sink in for a minute.
Obviously shocked that he would even need to be told to apologize, let alone debate the issue with me, I went on. "Ben, she needs to know that when you hurt someone, the right thing to do is apologize. You don't claim you didn't do it. You don't tell them to get over it. YOU SAY YOU'RE SORRY. BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT PEOPLE DO WHEN THEY HURT SOMEONE WHETHER THEY MEAN IT OR NOT...."
"Yeah, but I didn't do anything. She did it." I suddenly realized that I am teaching morality to not one, but TWO children.
"Ben," I said. "When she accidentally knocks someone over in school even if they bump into HER, should she turn to them and say 'I didn't do anything. I don't know what to tell you,' or should she instinctively say, 'Sorry, let me help you up?'"
Eyes rolling, and with a dramatic sigh that I mostly recognize from my 4 year old drama queen, he belts out, "FINE! Sorry."
Lila continued to cry.
"She isn't even REALLY crying!" REALLY BEN??? This is what you are going with? "She is only making a big deal of this because YOU are."
"Um...No. If you had just apologized and rubbed her head where it hurt this would have been over, but since you are acting like a bratty child, she still feels bad because you clearly don't care that you hurt her."
"I DIDN'T HURT HER!!!!" He is still sticking to his story. "Plus, I just said I was sorry and she's still crying."
What the hell kind of person did I get involved with? Am I going to find the bodies of mutilated squirrels in the basement? What kind of animal doesn't just try to make their 4 year old feel better?
Then I realized that this wasn't about him and her. It was about me and him.
"Ben, you need to realize that you are showing her how to treat people. If you don't want her to be a total asshole when she gets older, you need to do a better job of not showing her what an asshole acts like."
At this I went over to Lila and tried to change the subject.
He walked out of the room pissed off.
We haven't talked about it since.
Imagine the example this sets for a 4 year old.
A couple of days ago, Lila was climbing on/beating up Ben on the couch (as usual) and he moved the wrong way and accidentally pulled her hair (or hit her with an elbow, or something). She started crying and was very upset because she thought he had done it on purpose.
As mothers, we all know that there is no use in trying to explain to a 4 year old that it was not done on purpose and that there is no reason to be upset unless you really want to drag the tears out for 45 minutes. It's best just to say sorry and give a kiss to make it better and move on with your day.
 |
| It isn't a game. |
"Say you're sorry, Daddy." I told him. "That's what you do when you hurt someone."
You might want to sit down when I tell you his response.
"I didn't hurt her. She did it herself. What should I apologize for?"
Go ahead. Let that sink in for a minute.
 |
| You should note that THESE boys are about 8 years old. |
Obviously shocked that he would even need to be told to apologize, let alone debate the issue with me, I went on. "Ben, she needs to know that when you hurt someone, the right thing to do is apologize. You don't claim you didn't do it. You don't tell them to get over it. YOU SAY YOU'RE SORRY. BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT PEOPLE DO WHEN THEY HURT SOMEONE WHETHER THEY MEAN IT OR NOT...."
"Yeah, but I didn't do anything. She did it." I suddenly realized that I am teaching morality to not one, but TWO children.
"Ben," I said. "When she accidentally knocks someone over in school even if they bump into HER, should she turn to them and say 'I didn't do anything. I don't know what to tell you,' or should she instinctively say, 'Sorry, let me help you up?'"
Eyes rolling, and with a dramatic sigh that I mostly recognize from my 4 year old drama queen, he belts out, "FINE! Sorry."
 |
| This is what he was really saying. |
"She isn't even REALLY crying!" REALLY BEN??? This is what you are going with? "She is only making a big deal of this because YOU are."
"Um...No. If you had just apologized and rubbed her head where it hurt this would have been over, but since you are acting like a bratty child, she still feels bad because you clearly don't care that you hurt her."
"I DIDN'T HURT HER!!!!" He is still sticking to his story. "Plus, I just said I was sorry and she's still crying."
What the hell kind of person did I get involved with? Am I going to find the bodies of mutilated squirrels in the basement? What kind of animal doesn't just try to make their 4 year old feel better?
 |
| This song is stuck in my head now. |
"Ben, you need to realize that you are showing her how to treat people. If you don't want her to be a total asshole when she gets older, you need to do a better job of not showing her what an asshole acts like."
At this I went over to Lila and tried to change the subject.
He walked out of the room pissed off.
We haven't talked about it since.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Parenting Fail?
Am I a terrible mom? I try to stay on top of things. I want my kid to eat well and get enough sleep and say please and thank you. I want her to be smart and capable and independent and well-behaved. And so far I have failed at all but the part about her being smart (assed) and independednt (3 going on 13).
In trying to come to terms with just how to handle this problem of Lila being the sassiest little bitch on earth (yeah, I said it), the only thing I can come up with is that I am just too fucking tired to discipline her EVERY SINGLE TIME (which would literally be about 3 times per minute) that she does something that pisses me off.
My kid yells at me. She throws things and she refuses to eat. Then she throws a huge asshole fit about the fact that she doesn't get any snacks because she refused to eat what I put in front of her (No, I don't give in and she still does not GET it). She refuses to poop on the toilet still and when I refused to buy any more pull ups, she held it for 4 days until it was so painful for her (even with the laxative) that she will probably never want to shit on the toilet again (thanks to the doctor for that award-winning advice). She acts like an animal when we go to a store. She manipulates me by crying and telling me she hates me (remind you, she is not a teenager - she's 3).
In between the 3 minute hugs and the 2 and a half moments of happiness is all this SHIT.
I am at my wits end. And all I can do is blog about it.
Fucking kid.
In trying to come to terms with just how to handle this problem of Lila being the sassiest little bitch on earth (yeah, I said it), the only thing I can come up with is that I am just too fucking tired to discipline her EVERY SINGLE TIME (which would literally be about 3 times per minute) that she does something that pisses me off.
My kid yells at me. She throws things and she refuses to eat. Then she throws a huge asshole fit about the fact that she doesn't get any snacks because she refused to eat what I put in front of her (No, I don't give in and she still does not GET it). She refuses to poop on the toilet still and when I refused to buy any more pull ups, she held it for 4 days until it was so painful for her (even with the laxative) that she will probably never want to shit on the toilet again (thanks to the doctor for that award-winning advice). She acts like an animal when we go to a store. She manipulates me by crying and telling me she hates me (remind you, she is not a teenager - she's 3).
In between the 3 minute hugs and the 2 and a half moments of happiness is all this SHIT.
I am at my wits end. And all I can do is blog about it.
Fucking kid.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Lila ruins everything
They say that imitation is the highest form of flattery. Tell that to any mother of a preschooler and she'll tell you that it actually destroys worlds.
Every mom wants to share the things she loves with her children. For example, a favorite song or book or movie.
I used to love Joan Jett. I have seen her in concert a few times and always thought of "I Love Rock and Roll" as the summation of my childhood (I was a strange kid).
Lila also loves that song. In fact, she loves it so much that when I played the CD one time while driving her to the sitter, she "rocked out" through the whole song, then merrily shouted, "AGAIN!" By the third time, she was singing along to the chorus and "OOOOOW"-ing in that high-pitched voice of hers. Luckily, it only took 3 times to get where we were going.
But it didn't stop there. She needed it every time we got into the car. Some time around the 218th time in a row I heard it (and nothing else) while driving, I told her that I forgot the disc in the house. A full-on heartbreak ensued and she cried the entire trip to the grocery store and back. And even though I could have simply put it on because I was obviously lying, I didn't want her to know I was lying and so instead I endured her tears and whining.
Needless to say, I cringe when I hear it now.
She did the same to my favorite color, which used to be purple. Lila LOVES purple. And after painting her room purple, and getting her purple sheets, a purple rug, purple curtains, a purple bookcase and pretty much any toy that contains purple in it, she started to insist on wearing something purple every single day. We have A LOT of purple socks and underwear and she would only wear one pair of shoes (can you guess what they look like) every day if I would let her.
She has done this with Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, which was my favorite Disney movie. I hate it now. This happened with Tom and Jerry cartoons. It happened with a children's book I kept around BEFORE I EVER EVEN THOUGHT I MIGHT HAVE A KID, Ferdinand the Bull, which Lila wore out in a matter of days. It happens with foods, with games (I was thrilled the FIRST time she wanted to play Candyland. The 7,586th time? Not so much.).
Because preschoolers are nothing if not obsessive.
(Image from http://www.last.fm/music/Joan+Jett/+images/5113011)
Every mom wants to share the things she loves with her children. For example, a favorite song or book or movie.
I used to love Joan Jett. I have seen her in concert a few times and always thought of "I Love Rock and Roll" as the summation of my childhood (I was a strange kid).
Lila also loves that song. In fact, she loves it so much that when I played the CD one time while driving her to the sitter, she "rocked out" through the whole song, then merrily shouted, "AGAIN!" By the third time, she was singing along to the chorus and "OOOOOW"-ing in that high-pitched voice of hers. Luckily, it only took 3 times to get where we were going.
But it didn't stop there. She needed it every time we got into the car. Some time around the 218th time in a row I heard it (and nothing else) while driving, I told her that I forgot the disc in the house. A full-on heartbreak ensued and she cried the entire trip to the grocery store and back. And even though I could have simply put it on because I was obviously lying, I didn't want her to know I was lying and so instead I endured her tears and whining.
Needless to say, I cringe when I hear it now.
She did the same to my favorite color, which used to be purple. Lila LOVES purple. And after painting her room purple, and getting her purple sheets, a purple rug, purple curtains, a purple bookcase and pretty much any toy that contains purple in it, she started to insist on wearing something purple every single day. We have A LOT of purple socks and underwear and she would only wear one pair of shoes (can you guess what they look like) every day if I would let her.
She has done this with Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, which was my favorite Disney movie. I hate it now. This happened with Tom and Jerry cartoons. It happened with a children's book I kept around BEFORE I EVER EVEN THOUGHT I MIGHT HAVE A KID, Ferdinand the Bull, which Lila wore out in a matter of days. It happens with foods, with games (I was thrilled the FIRST time she wanted to play Candyland. The 7,586th time? Not so much.).
Because preschoolers are nothing if not obsessive.
(Image from http://www.last.fm/music/Joan+Jett/+images/5113011)
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Scream Queen
"Mommy has a headache. Mommy is REALLY REALLY TIRED and has a headache because I had the WORST day at work. Let's get your coat on and go home."
Lila just ignored me. My mother tried. "Lila, you can come back and play with your (annoying) toy tomorrow. I will leave it here and it will be here when you come here in the morning." Nothing.
"Lila. It is TIME TO GO!"
That was when the screaming started. Lila is a gifted screamer. She started practicing about a week out of the womb and has truly perfected the art of the ear-busting, brain-sterilizing, skull eradicating scream. Seriously. When Charlie Sheen said that whole thing about mind-melting, exploded bodies or whatever, I thought of my kid screaming.
Under normal circumstances, her scream will give a normal, healthy person an aneurysm. But when you already HAVE a headache it turns it into the most painful, awful blinding kind of headache and you just want to die.
Lila continued the screaming into the car. She did it for the entirety of the 15 minute ride home. I was pretty sure at one point that I blacked out because I have no idea how I got to the exit ramp, but there I was, alive and gripping the steering wheel for dear life at the red light.
Lila screamed as we pulled into the driveway and then proceeded to continue screaming and then started flailing around as I began to undo her seat belt thingy. I threatened to leave her in the car and totally saw myself coming out in the morning to a nice sleeping happy kid, but I knew that my neighbors would TOTALLY call Child Protective Services because they would have heard the screaming and thought that my kid's skin was being peeled off by that guy in Silence of the Lambs.
So I un-buckled her and yanked her out of the car and as she walked into the house she began to calm down. As she plodded up the steps behind me, she was breathing heavy and whining that she was tired. And when we walked in the door, she saw her Daddy. Her eyes lit up. She put a big smile on her face and ran to him and yelled, "DAAADDDDYYYY!!! I AM SOOOOO HAPPY TO SEE YOU!!!"
"Thanks so much for that." I said to no one in particular.
Lila just ignored me. My mother tried. "Lila, you can come back and play with your (annoying) toy tomorrow. I will leave it here and it will be here when you come here in the morning." Nothing.
"Lila. It is TIME TO GO!"
That was when the screaming started. Lila is a gifted screamer. She started practicing about a week out of the womb and has truly perfected the art of the ear-busting, brain-sterilizing, skull eradicating scream. Seriously. When Charlie Sheen said that whole thing about mind-melting, exploded bodies or whatever, I thought of my kid screaming.
Under normal circumstances, her scream will give a normal, healthy person an aneurysm. But when you already HAVE a headache it turns it into the most painful, awful blinding kind of headache and you just want to die.
Lila continued the screaming into the car. She did it for the entirety of the 15 minute ride home. I was pretty sure at one point that I blacked out because I have no idea how I got to the exit ramp, but there I was, alive and gripping the steering wheel for dear life at the red light.
Lila screamed as we pulled into the driveway and then proceeded to continue screaming and then started flailing around as I began to undo her seat belt thingy. I threatened to leave her in the car and totally saw myself coming out in the morning to a nice sleeping happy kid, but I knew that my neighbors would TOTALLY call Child Protective Services because they would have heard the screaming and thought that my kid's skin was being peeled off by that guy in Silence of the Lambs.
So I un-buckled her and yanked her out of the car and as she walked into the house she began to calm down. As she plodded up the steps behind me, she was breathing heavy and whining that she was tired. And when we walked in the door, she saw her Daddy. Her eyes lit up. She put a big smile on her face and ran to him and yelled, "DAAADDDDYYYY!!! I AM SOOOOO HAPPY TO SEE YOU!!!"
"Thanks so much for that." I said to no one in particular.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Don't say you weren't warned.
Today I read a fantastic post from a fellow blogger about how they never tell you the truth about parenting and how it's partially a matter of forgetting and partially the fact that we're sort of sworn to secrecy about the truth. And I walked around today thinking about this and realized that I WAS actually told on several occasions. But not directly.
(Here is a link to the post)
So for all you parents to be and new parents out there (and those of us who are still working out all the details), I am going to provide this little handy interpretation of what was told to me, and what I now realize they meant when they said it.
1. Motherhood is the hardest job in the world.
The Truth:
It is the WORST job in the world. I would be lying if I said that I know what it's like to be a worker at a third world sweatshop, but I suspect it is a lot like being a new mother. First off, the hours will kill you. You are basically ALWAYS on call, even when you are sleeping. And then for the first few years you are lucky if you get to sleep for more than 3 or 4 hours at a time. There are NO BREAKS. You do not get a lunch break where you can take off for an hour and run errands, you do not get to go to the bathroom (at least not by yourself) and you do not get to sit down without having someone scream at you. There is no vacation or sick leave and the pay is pretty much nonexistent.
2. Colic is really awful but it does end.
The Truth:
It ends. But while it is happening, COLIC IS THE WORST THING YOU WILL EVER EXPERIENCE. It seems like it is going to go on forever and you are trapped with this little helpless being who you can do absolutely NOTHING to make stop screaming at you. And before the colic ends, you will realize that you are the worst parent that has ever walked the face of the earth because your only job at this point is to keep the little one alive and comfortable and you become convinced that you cannot manage to do this. Colic will make you want to die. Colic will make you realize that those posters all over the hospital and the reminders everywhere about how you are not supposed to shake your baby are serious business. Because there will be at least one moment where you think, "now I understand why people shake babies".
3. Having a baby will fundamentally change you.
The Truth:
Yes. Completely. But not in the ways you think. You know that you will love this little one in a way that you never imagined (something else they tell you that is only half true) but you will no longer be able to watch movies that involve kidnapped children without becoming EXTREMELY uneasy. You will want to avoid any books or episodes of CSI where awful things happen to children and suddenly all those jokes about punching babies and kiddie porn will not seem funny (yes, I used to have that kind of sense of humor). Real actual news stories about children who are hurt or taken will terrify you and you will need to repeatedly check on them while they sleep at night.
You will tell anyone who will listen about your child's poop. There will be at least one hilarious poop story that every friend and relative hears at least once. You will know all the words to every song Dora the Explorer (or your kid's hero of choice) has ever sung. You will allow things that you always said you wouldn't (sure, let's have Fruit Loops for dinner). You will beg your child to eat. You will bribe them to behave in public even though you hate that kind of thing. People who don't have children will tell you that it's all terrible and bad parenting and that they will NEVER be "that parent" but trust me, they will.
4. All kids throw fits. All kids aggravate their parents. It's how they learn limits.
The Truth:
There will be moments where you completely understand why wild animals eat their children. You will have moments of sheer anger where you have to force yourself to walk away because if you stay in the same room with your child, you will end up hurting them. This does not make you a bad parent (actually staying put and hurting them makes you a bad parent). You will be amazed at the manipulative ability of a three year old, who has the ability to read your weaknesses better than any con artist ever could. And you will fear that you are going insane because you will seriously consider the pros and cons of checking yourself into a mental institution "for the vacation".
You will have days where you really don't LIKE your child. It does not make you a bad parent. On at least on occasion (and probably on many), you will think, if not actually say this:
5. They don't call it "the terrible two's" for nothing.
Truth:
My kid went through this phase from about 18 months until she turned 3. Then she was a normal kid who could behave for about 3 months, then came this bizarro 3 and 1/2 year old thing. Most of the parents I talk to tell me that 3 is WAY worse than 2. And it is. The terrible twos are defined by the word "no". They will tell you NO for everything, even if they mean YES, and then they will get mad at you when you think they meant NO because they said it. The terrible two's want things to be just so. They get frustrated and throw fits if the ketchup isn't on the right spot on their plate.
But three and a half is KILLING ME. Suddenly no matter is too small for a full blown, screaming, yelling tantrum. Bath time = tantrum. Bedtime = tantrum. Getting dressed = tantrum. Time for dinner = tantrum. It isn't the big things that bring on the fits. It's the regular routine things that you do at the same time EVERY SINGLE DAY. Why bath time after dinner and bedtime after bath is always a huge ambush to my child, I will never know. But every moment of every day seems like a terrible surprise to her.
6. Listen to your gut. You know your child best.
Truth:
Don't read every parenting book you can get your hands on because every one will tell you something different. Parenting "experts" seem to never have their own children at home. Instead, you should call your mommy friends and/or relatives who have experience with kids. When I listened to my gut, I thought Lila was just bright red because she was hot. She had a cold or something and she should just sleep it off. My mother told me that it didn't seem right and encouraged me to call the doctor and it turned out she had Scarlet Fever and a nasty strep infection.
7. Your child will want to watch the same movie/listen to the same song/read the same story over and over and o
over. It's perfectly normal.
Truth:
You will come to want to murder the creators of Dora the Explorer and you will fantasize that all the Disney Princesses (or whatever the boy equivalent is) are being maimed, tortured and executed. If you are LUCKY, your kid will take to a movie, song, or character that you LOVED as a child and you will encourage this because you think it will be more tolerable. But after the first 4,000 times, you will hate your childhood and everything you associated with that memory because your child will have worn it out beyond imagination. Mine actually made me hate Joan Jett.
8. Motherhood is the most rewarding job in the world.
Truth:
This is totally true. You will likely never be as proud of anything in your life as you are when someone tells you how smart/beautiful/well-behaved/creative/talented/incredible your kid is. Seriously. Your kid will do things that make you want to pull your hair out. They will make you scream into pillows until your throat hurts. They will disappoint you and make you question your worth as a person. But there are those moments where you look at them and your soul swells with happiness and you think, "I made that!"
(Here is a link to the post)
So for all you parents to be and new parents out there (and those of us who are still working out all the details), I am going to provide this little handy interpretation of what was told to me, and what I now realize they meant when they said it.
1. Motherhood is the hardest job in the world.
The Truth:
It is the WORST job in the world. I would be lying if I said that I know what it's like to be a worker at a third world sweatshop, but I suspect it is a lot like being a new mother. First off, the hours will kill you. You are basically ALWAYS on call, even when you are sleeping. And then for the first few years you are lucky if you get to sleep for more than 3 or 4 hours at a time. There are NO BREAKS. You do not get a lunch break where you can take off for an hour and run errands, you do not get to go to the bathroom (at least not by yourself) and you do not get to sit down without having someone scream at you. There is no vacation or sick leave and the pay is pretty much nonexistent.
2. Colic is really awful but it does end.
The Truth:
It ends. But while it is happening, COLIC IS THE WORST THING YOU WILL EVER EXPERIENCE. It seems like it is going to go on forever and you are trapped with this little helpless being who you can do absolutely NOTHING to make stop screaming at you. And before the colic ends, you will realize that you are the worst parent that has ever walked the face of the earth because your only job at this point is to keep the little one alive and comfortable and you become convinced that you cannot manage to do this. Colic will make you want to die. Colic will make you realize that those posters all over the hospital and the reminders everywhere about how you are not supposed to shake your baby are serious business. Because there will be at least one moment where you think, "now I understand why people shake babies".
3. Having a baby will fundamentally change you.
The Truth:
Yes. Completely. But not in the ways you think. You know that you will love this little one in a way that you never imagined (something else they tell you that is only half true) but you will no longer be able to watch movies that involve kidnapped children without becoming EXTREMELY uneasy. You will want to avoid any books or episodes of CSI where awful things happen to children and suddenly all those jokes about punching babies and kiddie porn will not seem funny (yes, I used to have that kind of sense of humor). Real actual news stories about children who are hurt or taken will terrify you and you will need to repeatedly check on them while they sleep at night.
You will tell anyone who will listen about your child's poop. There will be at least one hilarious poop story that every friend and relative hears at least once. You will know all the words to every song Dora the Explorer (or your kid's hero of choice) has ever sung. You will allow things that you always said you wouldn't (sure, let's have Fruit Loops for dinner). You will beg your child to eat. You will bribe them to behave in public even though you hate that kind of thing. People who don't have children will tell you that it's all terrible and bad parenting and that they will NEVER be "that parent" but trust me, they will.
4. All kids throw fits. All kids aggravate their parents. It's how they learn limits.
The Truth:
There will be moments where you completely understand why wild animals eat their children. You will have moments of sheer anger where you have to force yourself to walk away because if you stay in the same room with your child, you will end up hurting them. This does not make you a bad parent (actually staying put and hurting them makes you a bad parent). You will be amazed at the manipulative ability of a three year old, who has the ability to read your weaknesses better than any con artist ever could. And you will fear that you are going insane because you will seriously consider the pros and cons of checking yourself into a mental institution "for the vacation".
You will have days where you really don't LIKE your child. It does not make you a bad parent. On at least on occasion (and probably on many), you will think, if not actually say this:
5. They don't call it "the terrible two's" for nothing.
Truth:
My kid went through this phase from about 18 months until she turned 3. Then she was a normal kid who could behave for about 3 months, then came this bizarro 3 and 1/2 year old thing. Most of the parents I talk to tell me that 3 is WAY worse than 2. And it is. The terrible twos are defined by the word "no". They will tell you NO for everything, even if they mean YES, and then they will get mad at you when you think they meant NO because they said it. The terrible two's want things to be just so. They get frustrated and throw fits if the ketchup isn't on the right spot on their plate.
But three and a half is KILLING ME. Suddenly no matter is too small for a full blown, screaming, yelling tantrum. Bath time = tantrum. Bedtime = tantrum. Getting dressed = tantrum. Time for dinner = tantrum. It isn't the big things that bring on the fits. It's the regular routine things that you do at the same time EVERY SINGLE DAY. Why bath time after dinner and bedtime after bath is always a huge ambush to my child, I will never know. But every moment of every day seems like a terrible surprise to her.
6. Listen to your gut. You know your child best.
Truth:
Don't read every parenting book you can get your hands on because every one will tell you something different. Parenting "experts" seem to never have their own children at home. Instead, you should call your mommy friends and/or relatives who have experience with kids. When I listened to my gut, I thought Lila was just bright red because she was hot. She had a cold or something and she should just sleep it off. My mother told me that it didn't seem right and encouraged me to call the doctor and it turned out she had Scarlet Fever and a nasty strep infection.
7. Your child will want to watch the same movie/listen to the same song/read the same story over and over and o
over. It's perfectly normal.
Truth:
You will come to want to murder the creators of Dora the Explorer and you will fantasize that all the Disney Princesses (or whatever the boy equivalent is) are being maimed, tortured and executed. If you are LUCKY, your kid will take to a movie, song, or character that you LOVED as a child and you will encourage this because you think it will be more tolerable. But after the first 4,000 times, you will hate your childhood and everything you associated with that memory because your child will have worn it out beyond imagination. Mine actually made me hate Joan Jett.
8. Motherhood is the most rewarding job in the world.
Truth:
This is totally true. You will likely never be as proud of anything in your life as you are when someone tells you how smart/beautiful/well-behaved/creative/talented/incredible your kid is. Seriously. Your kid will do things that make you want to pull your hair out. They will make you scream into pillows until your throat hurts. They will disappoint you and make you question your worth as a person. But there are those moments where you look at them and your soul swells with happiness and you think, "I made that!"
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
SHIT...maybe next year.
Well, once again I have destroyed my chances of winning Mother of the Year.
I really hate my days off work during the week. Since I work part time at the gigantic downtown library and they don't have the budget to hire full time people, I have every Tuesday and Wednesday off of work. Tuesdays are nice because the Kid goes to preschool in the morning until about 11:30 and it gives me time to get dressed and plan something for the rest of the day to occupy her so that she doesn't just whine and harass me all day. Yesterday we hit the Barnes & Noble where she played with the trains (way more fun that the set we have at home for some reason), then played on the stage (she sang and danced for no one in particular), and then we went home where Netflix had sent us Lilo and Stitch to keep us occupied for much of the afternoon. This also afforded me a "relax" time on the couch (go ahead, applaud my fantastic ulterior motives) and after that we only had about an hour before Daddy came home to entertain her while I made dinner.
But Wednesdays are always another story. Sometimes, Lila cries to go to Grandma's (where she spends the days when I work) and I have NO PROBLEM calling my mother and letting Lila plead with her to let her come over. But most days, it is up to me to make magic for her.
Luckily, Wednesday morning is story time at the local branch library. Unfortunately it's at 10:00 which for some reason seems to come too early for us. But Lila loves the storytime. It's a small affair with 3 to 5 kids at a time and a wonderful older childrens' librarian who Lila is attached to. You see, we used to live on the same block, right up the street, and so last year we spent A LOT of time taking walks to the library and hanging around in there. But since we moved, it isn't really walking distance and so we need to take a car rind and in the winter that means a little longer to prepare.
Since Lila is going through her phase of freaking out any time I tell her its time to do anything, I had to warn her a few weeks ago that if she ever threw a fit when we were getting ready to go anywhere, we simply would not go. But since I also desperately NEED to take her to storytime in order to have a little time to space out, I really need to make it happen.
Well, today I told Lila I the plan. "I am going to go upstairs to get showered and dressed. You need to play nicely for about 15 minutes and then you will be getting dressed, cleaned up, and ready to go to storytime." She didn't throw a fit. She said "okay". So far so good.
I went upstairs to get my clothes together and Lila came up behind me and went into her room to play. This is also good because then I can listen while I shower. I heard her getting frustrated with something and when I went in she told me she needed some help getting her notebook and pen from under a stack of coloring books. "I am pretty sure you can do this yourself," I said, but I took the notebook and pen out and she went to put it on her little princess table. I walked out and took my little stack of clothes into the bathroom.
I heard more sounds of frustration (namely, the notebook being thrown on the floor and a grunt). I went back in, now half undressed. "What's the problem Lila?"
"I can't make my pen work..." OK. I went and hunted for another pen. "Problem solved. Give me 10 minutes."
Then I heard a loud crash and a whiny scream. Lila had overturned the table in her room and started a mini fit. I told her to take a deep breath. She did. Then I asked her to show me what the problem was. She started yelling at me that she didn't want any help from me. "Fine," I said. I am getting in the shower. Please play good for like 5 minutes and I will help you when I get out."
Somehow, this was too much for her and she threw herself onto the floor screaming. I attempted to EXPLAIN that story time is starting at 10:00 and if she wants to go, I have to get into the shower NOW. "Play with something else for 3 minutes, and then we can talk. She continued to scream and yell at me telling me that she doesn't WANT to play with anything else and that she needs me to fix her table NOW".
I told her I was giving her ONE MORE CHANCE to knock that shit off and then we weren't going. At that, I turned to walk out of her room and got into the shower. I heard her stomping the ground and screaming. I soaped up as quickly as I could while she continued to cry and as I did this I felt my blood begin go boil. "OK. YOU WANT TO BE A HUGE BRAT TODAY? NOW WE DON'T GO TO STORY TIME."
At this, her tone changed and she started the truly upset broken-hearted crying. But FUCK HER. I tried to be nice. Why the hell was I going to take a kid who is clearly just being an asshole to storytime? She was not throwing a fit because she wanted me to hang out with her. She was throwing a fit because she has a temper and even though I tried to talk her through it she threw a fit anyway.
As she continued to cry, I yelled at her that she OBVIOUSLY had decided that staying home and breaking her stuff was much more fun than storytime and so she should go ahead and break all of her stuff so that I can throw it away and she won't have any toys to get mad about anymore.
And I yelled and yelled and yelled and she just kept on crying and telling me that I am a Mean Mommy. And then I started being a real asshole. "Boo Hoo Hoo..." I said. "I am being a brat and now I can't have what I want so I am going to be a bigger brat...BOO HOO HOOO!!!" I was mocking my 3-year-old child.
I admit, looking at that now, it was probably not nice to do. It was childish. I am the adult, right? I am supposed to remain composed and calm, right? So why does my kid have the ability to make me fucking insane to the point of wanting to strangle her? I actually had to go into my bedroom, shut the door, and scream into a pillow until my throat started to hurt so that I didn't totally lose it. I considered calling her father and telling him to come home so that I didn't traumatize her emotionally for life.
Then I started to feel guilty because I KNOW that my behavior is no more acceptable than hers, and I AM NOT THREE. I started to think that I am setting a shitty example and now she is going to think it's okay to be an asshole to someone when they are upset.
About 20 seconds later, Lila came in with a pack of candy that she got from her Valentine's Day party at school, as if NOTHING EVER HAPPENED and asked me to open it. I said, "You know we're not going to storytime right?" "Yeeeaaaah." she said sadly.
"And you know that it's because you threw a fit for no good reason, right?" "Yeeeaaah." she said.
"Then why would you be allowed to have a candy treat when 5 minutes ago you were acting like a total brat?" I asked her, trying to be the stern Mommy. She gave it to me and I told her we were going to save that for later.
Then she said, "I want to tell you something very important."
"Oh yeah?" I said. "What's that?"
"I'm really sorry that I made you mad and sad." She said matter-of-factly. "You don't have to take me to storytime when I'm being bad."
And that's when I realized that I have a really fucking good kid, and that as a mother, I totally do not deserve her.
I really hate my days off work during the week. Since I work part time at the gigantic downtown library and they don't have the budget to hire full time people, I have every Tuesday and Wednesday off of work. Tuesdays are nice because the Kid goes to preschool in the morning until about 11:30 and it gives me time to get dressed and plan something for the rest of the day to occupy her so that she doesn't just whine and harass me all day. Yesterday we hit the Barnes & Noble where she played with the trains (way more fun that the set we have at home for some reason), then played on the stage (she sang and danced for no one in particular), and then we went home where Netflix had sent us Lilo and Stitch to keep us occupied for much of the afternoon. This also afforded me a "relax" time on the couch (go ahead, applaud my fantastic ulterior motives) and after that we only had about an hour before Daddy came home to entertain her while I made dinner.
But Wednesdays are always another story. Sometimes, Lila cries to go to Grandma's (where she spends the days when I work) and I have NO PROBLEM calling my mother and letting Lila plead with her to let her come over. But most days, it is up to me to make magic for her.
Luckily, Wednesday morning is story time at the local branch library. Unfortunately it's at 10:00 which for some reason seems to come too early for us. But Lila loves the storytime. It's a small affair with 3 to 5 kids at a time and a wonderful older childrens' librarian who Lila is attached to. You see, we used to live on the same block, right up the street, and so last year we spent A LOT of time taking walks to the library and hanging around in there. But since we moved, it isn't really walking distance and so we need to take a car rind and in the winter that means a little longer to prepare.
Since Lila is going through her phase of freaking out any time I tell her its time to do anything, I had to warn her a few weeks ago that if she ever threw a fit when we were getting ready to go anywhere, we simply would not go. But since I also desperately NEED to take her to storytime in order to have a little time to space out, I really need to make it happen.
Well, today I told Lila I the plan. "I am going to go upstairs to get showered and dressed. You need to play nicely for about 15 minutes and then you will be getting dressed, cleaned up, and ready to go to storytime." She didn't throw a fit. She said "okay". So far so good.
I went upstairs to get my clothes together and Lila came up behind me and went into her room to play. This is also good because then I can listen while I shower. I heard her getting frustrated with something and when I went in she told me she needed some help getting her notebook and pen from under a stack of coloring books. "I am pretty sure you can do this yourself," I said, but I took the notebook and pen out and she went to put it on her little princess table. I walked out and took my little stack of clothes into the bathroom.
I heard more sounds of frustration (namely, the notebook being thrown on the floor and a grunt). I went back in, now half undressed. "What's the problem Lila?"
"I can't make my pen work..." OK. I went and hunted for another pen. "Problem solved. Give me 10 minutes."
Then I heard a loud crash and a whiny scream. Lila had overturned the table in her room and started a mini fit. I told her to take a deep breath. She did. Then I asked her to show me what the problem was. She started yelling at me that she didn't want any help from me. "Fine," I said. I am getting in the shower. Please play good for like 5 minutes and I will help you when I get out."
Somehow, this was too much for her and she threw herself onto the floor screaming. I attempted to EXPLAIN that story time is starting at 10:00 and if she wants to go, I have to get into the shower NOW. "Play with something else for 3 minutes, and then we can talk. She continued to scream and yell at me telling me that she doesn't WANT to play with anything else and that she needs me to fix her table NOW".
I told her I was giving her ONE MORE CHANCE to knock that shit off and then we weren't going. At that, I turned to walk out of her room and got into the shower. I heard her stomping the ground and screaming. I soaped up as quickly as I could while she continued to cry and as I did this I felt my blood begin go boil. "OK. YOU WANT TO BE A HUGE BRAT TODAY? NOW WE DON'T GO TO STORY TIME."
At this, her tone changed and she started the truly upset broken-hearted crying. But FUCK HER. I tried to be nice. Why the hell was I going to take a kid who is clearly just being an asshole to storytime? She was not throwing a fit because she wanted me to hang out with her. She was throwing a fit because she has a temper and even though I tried to talk her through it she threw a fit anyway.
As she continued to cry, I yelled at her that she OBVIOUSLY had decided that staying home and breaking her stuff was much more fun than storytime and so she should go ahead and break all of her stuff so that I can throw it away and she won't have any toys to get mad about anymore.
And I yelled and yelled and yelled and she just kept on crying and telling me that I am a Mean Mommy. And then I started being a real asshole. "Boo Hoo Hoo..." I said. "I am being a brat and now I can't have what I want so I am going to be a bigger brat...BOO HOO HOOO!!!" I was mocking my 3-year-old child.
I admit, looking at that now, it was probably not nice to do. It was childish. I am the adult, right? I am supposed to remain composed and calm, right? So why does my kid have the ability to make me fucking insane to the point of wanting to strangle her? I actually had to go into my bedroom, shut the door, and scream into a pillow until my throat started to hurt so that I didn't totally lose it. I considered calling her father and telling him to come home so that I didn't traumatize her emotionally for life.
Then I started to feel guilty because I KNOW that my behavior is no more acceptable than hers, and I AM NOT THREE. I started to think that I am setting a shitty example and now she is going to think it's okay to be an asshole to someone when they are upset.
About 20 seconds later, Lila came in with a pack of candy that she got from her Valentine's Day party at school, as if NOTHING EVER HAPPENED and asked me to open it. I said, "You know we're not going to storytime right?" "Yeeeaaaah." she said sadly.
"And you know that it's because you threw a fit for no good reason, right?" "Yeeeaaah." she said.
"Then why would you be allowed to have a candy treat when 5 minutes ago you were acting like a total brat?" I asked her, trying to be the stern Mommy. She gave it to me and I told her we were going to save that for later.
Then she said, "I want to tell you something very important."
"Oh yeah?" I said. "What's that?"
"I'm really sorry that I made you mad and sad." She said matter-of-factly. "You don't have to take me to storytime when I'm being bad."
And that's when I realized that I have a really fucking good kid, and that as a mother, I totally do not deserve her.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Starving for Newtons
I've been told it's just her age. But I swear to God, every regular routine part of every single day is a huge dramatic nightmare for Lila and she makes all of it pure hell for me.
We eat dinner together every night. I am a big fan of "family dinner time" so I insist that Ben be home from work and we all sit together at the table WITHOUT the TV on and talk. I gave up a LONG time ago on eating foods that Lila is unlikely to eat. So we rarely have steak or roasts or basically ANY grown up food because I just know that she will refuse to eat it and additionally make a big deal about the fact that she can't eat Popsicles for dinner. And since I am no short-order cook, I only make one meal per night and so we eat a lot of hamburgers and pizza and tacos. I try to make "healthier choices" when it comes to these things and so we use lean meat and whole grain and that kind of thing.
In most families, this is enough and the kids generally shut up and partake in the dinners, but not in my house. Not for the queen. Lila just refuses to eat. She just will not eat. At least not what we are eating and not when we do. Lila's entire MO for the last couple of months, is to take two bites of dinner then begin to play. Usually we "suggest" that she eat some more and she says she will after she takes a break. But she doesn't. And she starts to do annoying things like bang her silverware or make obnoxious noises. After a few minutes we tell her to either eat or get down. She always gets down.
We have tried allowing her to eat her dinner later, if she chooses. She refuses, saying that at bedtime you can only eat snacks and not dinner. I have tried offering her peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or carrots and dip for snacks so that she can get some nutrition but then I realized that she was just holding out for these things. Then I began trying to give her these things at dinner time, just to end the hassle of it all and GUESS WHAT???? She suddenly didn't like them anymore.
I will not battle with her over eating. She does not understand why she can't skip dinner and just eat 8 Fig Newtons at bedtime every night. This is a battle of wills, and the only way to win the battle of wills with a 3 year old is to not let her know it's a battle. I just tell her I really don't care if she's hungry. She can eat what I give her or not at all. And although I say these things, I have to admit that when she turns into a total asshole because she's hungry after refusing to eat lunch and then she refuses to eat anything other than whatever random food item she deems necessary at that moment (it Alvin and the Chipmunks gummy snacks, today) I just send her to her room until she can chill the fuck out and act like a human child again. Sometimes I can get her to eat normal food, sometimes I can't. Usually, I compromise on a bowl of cereal or yogurt or something and about half the time, she still refuses to eat it, but I still feel like she holds out for these snack foods that she likes better than actual meals. It's not the fact that she only wants to eat a few foods. Its the fact that the few foods she wants to eat are cookies, chips, and ice cream.
I know the old adage that a healthy kid will not starve herself. But no one ever says she won't maker her mother completely insane in her quest to only eat the 3 items she wants to eat so that she can prove who is in charge.
We eat dinner together every night. I am a big fan of "family dinner time" so I insist that Ben be home from work and we all sit together at the table WITHOUT the TV on and talk. I gave up a LONG time ago on eating foods that Lila is unlikely to eat. So we rarely have steak or roasts or basically ANY grown up food because I just know that she will refuse to eat it and additionally make a big deal about the fact that she can't eat Popsicles for dinner. And since I am no short-order cook, I only make one meal per night and so we eat a lot of hamburgers and pizza and tacos. I try to make "healthier choices" when it comes to these things and so we use lean meat and whole grain and that kind of thing.
In most families, this is enough and the kids generally shut up and partake in the dinners, but not in my house. Not for the queen. Lila just refuses to eat. She just will not eat. At least not what we are eating and not when we do. Lila's entire MO for the last couple of months, is to take two bites of dinner then begin to play. Usually we "suggest" that she eat some more and she says she will after she takes a break. But she doesn't. And she starts to do annoying things like bang her silverware or make obnoxious noises. After a few minutes we tell her to either eat or get down. She always gets down.
 |
| It's the four food groups. |
As I am sure you can guess, as soon as we clean the table off, Lila asks for a snack. At first we tried giving her a " food you didn't finish at dinner" snack but this only caused convulsion-style tantrums so we stopped. We began simply telling her that if she got down from the table without eating her dinner she could not have a snack. Although this seems like a perfectly reasonable statement it fills me with fear and dread. Because inevitably, as we are lying in bed and I close her story book for the night, she tells me she's hungry. Then she can't go to sleep because she's too hungry and she ends up crying until well into the night until either we give her a snack or we drink ourselves unconscious. I am not exaggerating when I say that she has cried in her room from 8:30 until close to 2 am until I finally gave in and brought her a cereal bar.
We have tried allowing her to eat her dinner later, if she chooses. She refuses, saying that at bedtime you can only eat snacks and not dinner. I have tried offering her peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or carrots and dip for snacks so that she can get some nutrition but then I realized that she was just holding out for these things. Then I began trying to give her these things at dinner time, just to end the hassle of it all and GUESS WHAT???? She suddenly didn't like them anymore.
I will not battle with her over eating. She does not understand why she can't skip dinner and just eat 8 Fig Newtons at bedtime every night. This is a battle of wills, and the only way to win the battle of wills with a 3 year old is to not let her know it's a battle. I just tell her I really don't care if she's hungry. She can eat what I give her or not at all. And although I say these things, I have to admit that when she turns into a total asshole because she's hungry after refusing to eat lunch and then she refuses to eat anything other than whatever random food item she deems necessary at that moment (it Alvin and the Chipmunks gummy snacks, today) I just send her to her room until she can chill the fuck out and act like a human child again. Sometimes I can get her to eat normal food, sometimes I can't. Usually, I compromise on a bowl of cereal or yogurt or something and about half the time, she still refuses to eat it, but I still feel like she holds out for these snack foods that she likes better than actual meals. It's not the fact that she only wants to eat a few foods. Its the fact that the few foods she wants to eat are cookies, chips, and ice cream.
I know the old adage that a healthy kid will not starve herself. But no one ever says she won't maker her mother completely insane in her quest to only eat the 3 items she wants to eat so that she can prove who is in charge.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Throwing fits like an asshole.
I am the Mommy. I am in charge. I do not put up with the kid's tantrums. I will send her little ass to bed. But I seriously DREAD having to tell her to do anything because I just don't want the fight. And that little asshole totally knows it.
Everyone tells me that if I am firm and don't react too much to it, it will stop but since I became determined not to yell and scream and freak out at her, the anger is just building and I fear that I am going to slap her. She is such a little bitch sometimes.
Tonight I made Daddy deal with it.
Everyone tells me that if I am firm and don't react too much to it, it will stop but since I became determined not to yell and scream and freak out at her, the anger is just building and I fear that I am going to slap her. She is such a little bitch sometimes.
Tonight I made Daddy deal with it.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Because Kids Can Be Assholes Too.
I really enjoy my days off. Thoroughly. I like sitting at home. I like watching TV. I like spending quiet peaceful time doing nothing and maybe even taking a shower. But my one weekday each week that I don't work I spend with Lila. And in order to keep from losing my mind, I try to find something to do that she will enjoy that doesn't involve me sitting on the couch with the inter-webs open all day.
Lila loves books and the library and she knows everyone who works at the small branch library near our house so she is always thrilled when I tell her we are going to go to story time. Yesterday, when I asked her if she wanted to go, she was all thrilled and excited and sang a song about how she was going to pick out some books and hang out with Mrs. Barbara, the story time librarian. I told her what time it started and what time I would be getting her dressed. I gave her a five minute warning so that she would be "finished" playing.
About 30 minutes before the start of story time I called upstairs to her. "Lila, it's time to come on down so we can get ready to go." I got no answer. So I went upstairs. She was in her room playing with her dollhouse and I called her name. She ignored me. So I turned around and said, "well, we don't HAVE to go to story time. We can stay here and you can play if you want to."
It seemed innocent enough but she lost her mind at this. First she started whining. When I told her to stop whining she started to scream and throw a fit. I talked calmly to her explaining that story time is starting at 10 am whether we are there or not, so if we want to go we have to get ready to go NOW. She started her wild flailing around screaming "I DON'T WANT TO GET READY RIGHT NOW!" to which I simply said, "Fine, Lila. You can stay here and throw a fit then. Let me know when you're done." She was kicking ans screaming and throwing herself on the floor. Then she hit her head on her dresser and started crying, so I went back in and attempted to calm her down. We talked again, and again I explained that if she wants to go to story time she needed to get dressed and we had to get going. I explained that this was her CHOICE to either stay and play OR get ready and go to story time. She simply said, "NO". At least three times, I attempted to calm her down and explain the situation, but each time I only got more attitude and sass.
She was getting more and more upset and I was getting more and more frustrated. I realized that the best thing to do was to put her in her room, close the door and walk away. So I did. She came out screaming (tantrum-ing) and I told her to get her ass back into her room because I was getting angry, but she started screaming, "I WANT TO GO TO STORY TIME NOW!!!" over and over and over.
"That little asshole," I thought. "I'm taking HER somewhere where SHE wants going to have fun. What the hell am I fighting with her for? She totally doesn't understand that this is something I couldn't care less about. And yet, she is creating this fucking scene and I am falling for it. And I am a terrible parent because I have no idea how to handle the situation and show her that I am the mother and I am only doing this FOR HER..."
So I lost it. I started yelling at her that she was being a total brat and there was no way I was taking her to story time now that she was behaving so badly. She cried and cried and cried and screamed and threw a fit, and somehow all of this seemed too much for me so I went into my bedroom, slammed the door, and the floodgates opened and I found myself sobbing. "We're not fucking going and it's NOT my fault," I cried to myself. Somehow I felt guilty that I couldn't control her and keep it together and just make it possible to get her dressed to take her to story time.
After a few minutes, I heard my door creak open. I hadn't noticed that she had stopped crying and was listening to me. She crept in and I tried to dry my face. But she knew. I turned to look at her and saw her panic stricken and scared and then that expression changed and she said, "you're making me cry..." and she started crying and hugging me.
So in the aftermath, I explained to her that from this point on, if we are going to do something fun and she throws a fit and doesn't listen, we simply will not do it. But I swear, spanking or slapping would probably work better. When I was a kid, if I ever acted like that, I would have been slapped in the mouth and then I would have knocked that shit off after a minute or two and we could get the hell on with our plans. Why is parenting such bullshit nowadays? And why do I feel it's necessary to take her anywhere if she is such an asshole about it?
Lila loves books and the library and she knows everyone who works at the small branch library near our house so she is always thrilled when I tell her we are going to go to story time. Yesterday, when I asked her if she wanted to go, she was all thrilled and excited and sang a song about how she was going to pick out some books and hang out with Mrs. Barbara, the story time librarian. I told her what time it started and what time I would be getting her dressed. I gave her a five minute warning so that she would be "finished" playing.
About 30 minutes before the start of story time I called upstairs to her. "Lila, it's time to come on down so we can get ready to go." I got no answer. So I went upstairs. She was in her room playing with her dollhouse and I called her name. She ignored me. So I turned around and said, "well, we don't HAVE to go to story time. We can stay here and you can play if you want to."
It seemed innocent enough but she lost her mind at this. First she started whining. When I told her to stop whining she started to scream and throw a fit. I talked calmly to her explaining that story time is starting at 10 am whether we are there or not, so if we want to go we have to get ready to go NOW. She started her wild flailing around screaming "I DON'T WANT TO GET READY RIGHT NOW!" to which I simply said, "Fine, Lila. You can stay here and throw a fit then. Let me know when you're done." She was kicking ans screaming and throwing herself on the floor. Then she hit her head on her dresser and started crying, so I went back in and attempted to calm her down. We talked again, and again I explained that if she wants to go to story time she needed to get dressed and we had to get going. I explained that this was her CHOICE to either stay and play OR get ready and go to story time. She simply said, "NO". At least three times, I attempted to calm her down and explain the situation, but each time I only got more attitude and sass.
She was getting more and more upset and I was getting more and more frustrated. I realized that the best thing to do was to put her in her room, close the door and walk away. So I did. She came out screaming (tantrum-ing) and I told her to get her ass back into her room because I was getting angry, but she started screaming, "I WANT TO GO TO STORY TIME NOW!!!" over and over and over.
"That little asshole," I thought. "I'm taking HER somewhere where SHE wants going to have fun. What the hell am I fighting with her for? She totally doesn't understand that this is something I couldn't care less about. And yet, she is creating this fucking scene and I am falling for it. And I am a terrible parent because I have no idea how to handle the situation and show her that I am the mother and I am only doing this FOR HER..."
So I lost it. I started yelling at her that she was being a total brat and there was no way I was taking her to story time now that she was behaving so badly. She cried and cried and cried and screamed and threw a fit, and somehow all of this seemed too much for me so I went into my bedroom, slammed the door, and the floodgates opened and I found myself sobbing. "We're not fucking going and it's NOT my fault," I cried to myself. Somehow I felt guilty that I couldn't control her and keep it together and just make it possible to get her dressed to take her to story time.
After a few minutes, I heard my door creak open. I hadn't noticed that she had stopped crying and was listening to me. She crept in and I tried to dry my face. But she knew. I turned to look at her and saw her panic stricken and scared and then that expression changed and she said, "you're making me cry..." and she started crying and hugging me.
So in the aftermath, I explained to her that from this point on, if we are going to do something fun and she throws a fit and doesn't listen, we simply will not do it. But I swear, spanking or slapping would probably work better. When I was a kid, if I ever acted like that, I would have been slapped in the mouth and then I would have knocked that shit off after a minute or two and we could get the hell on with our plans. Why is parenting such bullshit nowadays? And why do I feel it's necessary to take her anywhere if she is such an asshole about it?
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
That little BITCH!!!
My three year old is a little bitch. I am not saying this to be funny. This is not something I am proud of. But she is.
I have noticed her talking back and demanding things for some time now. For the most part, I stay calm and basically explain that 1) There is NO WAY I am going to give her what she wants if she is going to be a brat about it, and 2) Just because she decides to ask again, with the sad eyes and a whiney voice and gives me a great big "PLEEEEEEEEASE" doesn't mean she will get what she wants. This method is not working.
Lila is turning into a total bitch. When I am driving somewhere she wants to go and I (God Forbid) stop at a red light, she sees it as her place to yell "GO MOMMY!" at the top of her lungs, as if I am just trying to keep her from having a good time. Time after time I turn around and tell her "I am the driver. I am the Mommy. I decide when to go." This method is not working.
I (half) jokingly told her father that she was getting to that age where I should strap her to the couch and play Mommie Dearest for her so she could see what happens when mommies are pushed to their emotional limits and they think their kids are ingrateful little brats. (Of course, I realize that this is not the intended moral of the movie, but in light of the fact that time-outs are a joke and she doesn't care when I take things away or with -hold treats, I think it may work as an effective tool in scaring the sass out of my kid).
Yesterday we went to Wal-Mart (I will not digress into how much I hate Wal-Mart and everything it stands for and everyone in it) and we were trying to hurry. First there was the hissy fit when I said we couldn't buy a $40 Play-Doh set. Then there was the refusing to hold my hand and running off. Then there was the refusal to leave. I kept cool. There was NO WAY I was going to be that trashy mother yelling at her kid in the shampoo aisle at the Wal Mart. When we finally got out to the car, she insisted on climbing into her car seat herself. And I thought, "she's three...she needs to feel like she can do it herself," even though I was in a hurry to get to the bank before it closed. She got into the seat and I started to buckle her in and she said, "I wanna do it." "No baby," I replied. This is pretty hard to do and I just want to get out of here, okay?" The response she gave me took me off guard at first:
"I WILL DO IT NOW MOMMY!!!"
I felt the surging desire to slap her little mouth like my mother would do when I got overly sassy. I wanted to...I really, for about half a second thought that it would be the best thing I could do...Maybe it was just the fact that I was in the Wal Mart parking lot, but I felt like swearing at her at the top of my lungs and slapping her.
But I didn't. I put my hands on both sides of her face so she was looking right at me and said, as lovingly as I could at that moment, "If you talk to me like that again, I will slap your little sassy mouth." Perhaps threatening isn't much better than the actual thing, but she sure was quiet on the ride home. I almost think that THIS method may have worked.
For the record, I have never hit her. Never spanked or slapped or grabbed her roughly by the arm (or ear). I have a good handle on my temper and I know I would never forgive myself. But there are times when I can see myself doing it, in my mind, clear as day, and I wonder if perhaps spanking couldn't work on certain types of kids (the crazy ones). Because as much as I want Lila to be an independent and happy kid, I want her to be respectful and polite just as much. Not just because it makes ME insane, but because she needs to know that you have to be courteous and nice to function in a society with other people.
If I were to be completely honest, I would have to admit that she probably gets the attitude from me. I raise my voice a lot. And I find myself saying those dreaded words that every parent swears they will never say:
"Because I'm the MOMMY, that's why."
And for now, that's the only thing that kid needs to understand. Because being a super bitch in our house is MY job.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
You can dress them up, but you can't take them out.
Ben believes in "family time". He is big on going out on adventures and taking the kid and bonding or whatever. Every weekend, rather than stay at home and sleep (my preferred way to spend a Sunday) Ben wants to go out somewhere to some park or event or kid-friendly venue to "have some fun" together. But it's never actually any fun.
The idea of this is not entirely familiar to me. My parents learned really early that when you take a small child out to do something, it is hardly ever actually for their enjoyment and almost always for yours. So they stopped taking me to Chuck E Cheese and started just letting me tag along when they went to cookouts and bar hopping. And I didn't know the difference. I thought it was awesome that everyone would give me quarters for the video games and let me raise hell inside the house while the adults got drunk in the backyard. To me, that was family time.
Ben on the other hand had a mother who took him places. Fun places. Ben went to Disney World. And to gigantic amusement parks and to Hawaii. Ben has all these great memories that he wants Lila to have. And to a point, I think it's nice and all. But here's the thing...
Lila is just about 3. First off, I don't think she is going to remember whether we went to the zoo or sat in the backyard and threw rocks at squirrels. She will most likely only remember the way we traumatized her when we made her sit on the potty at the restaurant and the auto-flush went off and (literally) scared the piss out of her.
But even more importantly, going anywhere with this kid requires a lot of planning and a lot of patience. We have to go early enough so that she isn't grumpy and tired but late enough so that she can have a decent breakfast. We have to bring things to amuse her but not the same things we brought last time. We have to make sure we are going somewhere close enough that if she has another "potty" incident, we can get home in time to not have her pooping in her pants. And the truth is, it's stressful.
And what do we usually seem to get for all the stress of making this wonderful outing for our 3-year old? A screaming miserable brat. Any time we plan to take her somewhere that is specifically a kid place, she is a total asshole the entire time. I hate carnivals. But Ben insisted that we take her. And what did she do? She cried because she was tired. She cried because they only had Sprite and not orange soda. She cried because she needed to be a full 4 inches taller to ride on one of the rides and then screamed because she was terrified on one of the kiddie rides.
Even when we do things that are supposed to be "fun for the whole family" it isn't any fun. We went to the beach last weekend. Previous to Lila, the beach was one of my favorite things to do. Its hot and sunny and I can people watch and read and just relax. But there is absolutely NOTHING relaxing about going to the beach with a 3 year old. Besides the 2 trips from the car we had to make because we needed to bring enough toys, food, and drinks to keep her content for a few hours, I barely got to sit down because she likes to run in the sand. Ben took her in the water and the entire time I had to watch because I quite frankly don't trust that he wouldn't let her out of his site just long enough for her to be a subject of a "human chain" (which, by the way I cannot believe they still do. I have NEVER heard a story about the human chain kicking someone under the water). Between the crying to go into the water, the crying because the water is too cold, the crying because the sand castle wouldn't stand up and the crying because we tried to help her with her sand castle, I wanted to walk straight into the water with rocks in my pockets and just keep on going...
Ben says he wants to have nice memories with her. He says he wants her to have these nice memories and to have a better childhood than I did. And although I highly doubt I will be taking Lila to any bars in the near future (it was a different time then), I still don't see the point of taking the kid out anywhere if she is going to be just as miserable as she is at home bored.
I hope this changes as she gets older because I am ready to just quit the fucking family outings in favor of "family chore day" and "family watch TV day" every weekend.
The idea of this is not entirely familiar to me. My parents learned really early that when you take a small child out to do something, it is hardly ever actually for their enjoyment and almost always for yours. So they stopped taking me to Chuck E Cheese and started just letting me tag along when they went to cookouts and bar hopping. And I didn't know the difference. I thought it was awesome that everyone would give me quarters for the video games and let me raise hell inside the house while the adults got drunk in the backyard. To me, that was family time.
Ben on the other hand had a mother who took him places. Fun places. Ben went to Disney World. And to gigantic amusement parks and to Hawaii. Ben has all these great memories that he wants Lila to have. And to a point, I think it's nice and all. But here's the thing...
Lila is just about 3. First off, I don't think she is going to remember whether we went to the zoo or sat in the backyard and threw rocks at squirrels. She will most likely only remember the way we traumatized her when we made her sit on the potty at the restaurant and the auto-flush went off and (literally) scared the piss out of her.
But even more importantly, going anywhere with this kid requires a lot of planning and a lot of patience. We have to go early enough so that she isn't grumpy and tired but late enough so that she can have a decent breakfast. We have to bring things to amuse her but not the same things we brought last time. We have to make sure we are going somewhere close enough that if she has another "potty" incident, we can get home in time to not have her pooping in her pants. And the truth is, it's stressful.
And what do we usually seem to get for all the stress of making this wonderful outing for our 3-year old? A screaming miserable brat. Any time we plan to take her somewhere that is specifically a kid place, she is a total asshole the entire time. I hate carnivals. But Ben insisted that we take her. And what did she do? She cried because she was tired. She cried because they only had Sprite and not orange soda. She cried because she needed to be a full 4 inches taller to ride on one of the rides and then screamed because she was terrified on one of the kiddie rides.
Even when we do things that are supposed to be "fun for the whole family" it isn't any fun. We went to the beach last weekend. Previous to Lila, the beach was one of my favorite things to do. Its hot and sunny and I can people watch and read and just relax. But there is absolutely NOTHING relaxing about going to the beach with a 3 year old. Besides the 2 trips from the car we had to make because we needed to bring enough toys, food, and drinks to keep her content for a few hours, I barely got to sit down because she likes to run in the sand. Ben took her in the water and the entire time I had to watch because I quite frankly don't trust that he wouldn't let her out of his site just long enough for her to be a subject of a "human chain" (which, by the way I cannot believe they still do. I have NEVER heard a story about the human chain kicking someone under the water). Between the crying to go into the water, the crying because the water is too cold, the crying because the sand castle wouldn't stand up and the crying because we tried to help her with her sand castle, I wanted to walk straight into the water with rocks in my pockets and just keep on going...
Ben says he wants to have nice memories with her. He says he wants her to have these nice memories and to have a better childhood than I did. And although I highly doubt I will be taking Lila to any bars in the near future (it was a different time then), I still don't see the point of taking the kid out anywhere if she is going to be just as miserable as she is at home bored.
I hope this changes as she gets older because I am ready to just quit the fucking family outings in favor of "family chore day" and "family watch TV day" every weekend.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
I thought it would suck less....WRONG.
Lila is almost 3. I have had it with the whining. Somewhere, somehow, Lila got the idea that any time she is even remotely displeased with anything all she has to do is whine continually and magic will happen and she will have whatever it is. (Actually, she got this idea from spending too much time at Grandma's but that's another blog).
Lila's whining voice is exactly the same sound as nails on a chalkboard....into an amplifier...with feedback screeching in the background. Plus, she managed to inherit my loud Italian projecting voice and uses that along with her remarkable whiny pitch to make me insane. At not quite 3 years old, she has absolutely no ability to be reasoned with and has a temper like a rattlesnake. She can be perfectly happy one minute and writhing on the ground like a mental patient the next. And it seems there is NOTHING I can do about this.
I have tried telling her "Mommy can't understand you when you use that whining voice." I have tried time outs (which she seems to think is kind of fun because she has to try to sit still for an unspecified amount of time). Often, I have to put her in her bed and shut the door and tell her she can come out when she's done being a brat. Usually after about 10 minutes she walks out all smiles and says "I'm done crying mommy." But it never lasts for more than a few minutes.
Sometimes she talks to me like I talk to her saying "COME...IN...HERE...NOOOOOW
...MOMMY!!!!! And I get to feel guilty because she learned to talk to people like that from me.
I have no idea what to do with this whiny brat that my kid has become. She is stubborn, as I know kids her age are supposed to be. But I feel like I spend so much time yelling at her and forcing her to "calm down" that I can't enjoy her. I am afraid she thinks I don't love her.
Wasn't it supposed to get easier when they started to become little "people"?
Lila's whining voice is exactly the same sound as nails on a chalkboard....into an amplifier...with feedback screeching in the background. Plus, she managed to inherit my loud Italian projecting voice and uses that along with her remarkable whiny pitch to make me insane. At not quite 3 years old, she has absolutely no ability to be reasoned with and has a temper like a rattlesnake. She can be perfectly happy one minute and writhing on the ground like a mental patient the next. And it seems there is NOTHING I can do about this.
I have tried telling her "Mommy can't understand you when you use that whining voice." I have tried time outs (which she seems to think is kind of fun because she has to try to sit still for an unspecified amount of time). Often, I have to put her in her bed and shut the door and tell her she can come out when she's done being a brat. Usually after about 10 minutes she walks out all smiles and says "I'm done crying mommy." But it never lasts for more than a few minutes.
Sometimes she talks to me like I talk to her saying "COME...IN...HERE...NOOOOOW
...MOMMY!!!!! And I get to feel guilty because she learned to talk to people like that from me.
I have no idea what to do with this whiny brat that my kid has become. She is stubborn, as I know kids her age are supposed to be. But I feel like I spend so much time yelling at her and forcing her to "calm down" that I can't enjoy her. I am afraid she thinks I don't love her.
Wasn't it supposed to get easier when they started to become little "people"?
Monday, June 29, 2009
That BASTARD!!!
Yesterday, we were having dinner at my mother's house and Lila was in the form she always is in at Grandma's... "Total Brat Mode" (TBM). During dinner Lila starts whining and crying about something and since she probably didnt really know what it was that she wanted she couldnt tell us and it turned into a fiasco of whining and screaming and trying to wiggle out of the high chair.
My aunt was there and gave me a sorry look and I said "welcome to my whole day, every day". Ben had the fucking nerve to say to me "Really? How do you think I feel? I had her all day today and most of the day yesterday. I am sick of hearing you bitch about how hard it is."
Now besides the obvious "FUCK YOU," which I couldn't say in front of everyone there, I wanted to clarify something. BEN DID NOT HAVE HER ALL DAY. We were both home with her. We both took her to the grocery store. He thinks that just because I am in the next room doing the dishes and he is responsible for making sure she doesnt crack her skull on anything that he "has her all day" and I find that fucking offensive. Like I was out of town on a spa date for the weekend and it was just him alone with her for days at a time (I fucking WISH!!!).
During the week while he gets to be a productive member of society, I get to tend to her every whim (and believe me, there are millions of them) and try to stay sane while watching Calliou for the 400th time before noon. And because a couple of days a week my mother keeps her while I work part time just to have some grown up time, she is spoiled and has no sense of boundaries or rules. When Lila falls down or cries dramatically for 45 minutes because her doll fell off the couch, there is no one else there so that I dont have to drop everything and comfort her. There is no second parent to keep an eye on her so I can take a quick shower. There is no other parent there to give her lunch so that I can get a few things done. And that is the luxury that Ben has when he claims he "has her all day" on Sundays.
I shouldnt complain too much. I realize that most people dont have the help I have with Lila. I realize that Ben helps more than many Dads and that he tries to participate as much as possible. But we are FAR from equal in our parenting and this kind of traditional arrangement is something that I vehemently protest because I figured that I was more evolved than that.
And yet, he has the NERVE to tell me he's tired of hearing ME complain about how hard it is? Maybe I need to take more time for myself to show him what it's really like to have her ALL DAY.
My aunt was there and gave me a sorry look and I said "welcome to my whole day, every day". Ben had the fucking nerve to say to me "Really? How do you think I feel? I had her all day today and most of the day yesterday. I am sick of hearing you bitch about how hard it is."
Now besides the obvious "FUCK YOU," which I couldn't say in front of everyone there, I wanted to clarify something. BEN DID NOT HAVE HER ALL DAY. We were both home with her. We both took her to the grocery store. He thinks that just because I am in the next room doing the dishes and he is responsible for making sure she doesnt crack her skull on anything that he "has her all day" and I find that fucking offensive. Like I was out of town on a spa date for the weekend and it was just him alone with her for days at a time (I fucking WISH!!!).
During the week while he gets to be a productive member of society, I get to tend to her every whim (and believe me, there are millions of them) and try to stay sane while watching Calliou for the 400th time before noon. And because a couple of days a week my mother keeps her while I work part time just to have some grown up time, she is spoiled and has no sense of boundaries or rules. When Lila falls down or cries dramatically for 45 minutes because her doll fell off the couch, there is no one else there so that I dont have to drop everything and comfort her. There is no second parent to keep an eye on her so I can take a quick shower. There is no other parent there to give her lunch so that I can get a few things done. And that is the luxury that Ben has when he claims he "has her all day" on Sundays.
I shouldnt complain too much. I realize that most people dont have the help I have with Lila. I realize that Ben helps more than many Dads and that he tries to participate as much as possible. But we are FAR from equal in our parenting and this kind of traditional arrangement is something that I vehemently protest because I figured that I was more evolved than that.
And yet, he has the NERVE to tell me he's tired of hearing ME complain about how hard it is? Maybe I need to take more time for myself to show him what it's really like to have her ALL DAY.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Dining-in, forever.
It's not very often that Ben and I feel brave enough to take Lila out to eat. But occasionally, insanity strikes and we decide that it may be okay.
Yesterday was Fathers day and Lila and I went to breakfast with Daddy. We chose a hole in the wall little diner thinking that if nothing else it would be quick and quick is good when you have a kid that only sits still for about 15 minutes. It was trouble immediately. We should never have gone. Lila woke up extra early which meant she was extra tired and grumpy and by the time we arrived at the diner she was already fighting us about our choice of music in the car ("Duck song! Duck song!" she yelled over Led Zepplin).
We alowed her to sit in a big girl seat (booster) instead of the high chair and for about 45 seconds that was thrilling. Then the whining started. Then the yelling. We are not barbarians, we have established rules and for several minutes I tried to ask her "What do we do when we go out to the store?" "NO yelling, No running, no screaming," she reported back to me. "Then why are you yelling?" "NO MOMMY!!!!" She relplied and then let out a mind blowing shrill scream.
The waitress saw our struggle and brought over a big box of crayons and a coloring book which appeared to save the day...For the moment. We ordered our food, and Lila sat contentedly coloring until the food came. She actually ate like 7 bites and then decided that good-girl-time was over. Nothing could get her to stop the yelling and screaming and whining until finally, half-way through my meal, I picked her up and took her out to the car and Ben got our remaining breakfasts to go.
Here's my question...What's worse? Being that parent who yells at their kids in public or being the one that tries to talk to them in public? Either way, people look at you like you are doing it all wrong. I would love to be the kind of parent who just throws Lila a look and she KNOWS that it's time to knock it off. But instead, I try to talk to her. No negotiation. No pleading. Just simple "Stop it." But when she doesnt listen, and I am sitting there and everyone is being made to listen to my kid yell at me, all I want to do is be that parent who nobly stands up to her 2-year-old and says, "I AM NOT TAKING THIS ANYMORE," and have her understand that I mean business.
Since I dont spank her, I am left to wonder (along with Lila) what "meaning business" actually means. Leaving is often what she wants so to get up and leave isn't really a punishment. And sitting there isn't necessarily an option.
Sometimes, like yesterday, I sit there with my head in my hands and think, "I hate being a mother."
It's not very often that Ben and I feel brave enough to take Lila out to eat. But occasionally, insanity strikes and we decide that it may be okay.
Yesterday was Fathers day and Lila and I went to breakfast with Daddy. We chose a hole in the wall little diner thinking that if nothing else it would be quick and quick is good when you have a kid that only sits still for about 15 minutes. It was trouble immediately. We should never have gone. Lila woke up extra early which meant she was extra tired and grumpy and by the time we arrived at the diner she was already fighting us about our choice of music in the car ("Duck song! Duck song!" she yelled over Led Zepplin).
We alowed her to sit in a big girl seat (booster) instead of the high chair and for about 45 seconds that was thrilling. Then the whining started. Then the yelling. We are not barbarians, we have established rules and for several minutes I tried to ask her "What do we do when we go out to the store?" "NO yelling, No running, no screaming," she reported back to me. "Then why are you yelling?" "NO MOMMY!!!!" She relplied and then let out a mind blowing shrill scream.
The waitress saw our struggle and brought over a big box of crayons and a coloring book which appeared to save the day...For the moment. We ordered our food, and Lila sat contentedly coloring until the food came. She actually ate like 7 bites and then decided that good-girl-time was over. Nothing could get her to stop the yelling and screaming and whining until finally, half-way through my meal, I picked her up and took her out to the car and Ben got our remaining breakfasts to go.
Here's my question...What's worse? Being that parent who yells at their kids in public or being the one that tries to talk to them in public? Either way, people look at you like you are doing it all wrong. I would love to be the kind of parent who just throws Lila a look and she KNOWS that it's time to knock it off. But instead, I try to talk to her. No negotiation. No pleading. Just simple "Stop it." But when she doesnt listen, and I am sitting there and everyone is being made to listen to my kid yell at me, all I want to do is be that parent who nobly stands up to her 2-year-old and says, "I AM NOT TAKING THIS ANYMORE," and have her understand that I mean business.
Since I dont spank her, I am left to wonder (along with Lila) what "meaning business" actually means. Leaving is often what she wants so to get up and leave isn't really a punishment. And sitting there isn't necessarily an option.
Sometimes, like yesterday, I sit there with my head in my hands and think, "I hate being a mother."
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Sugar and the meaning of insanity
My mother likes to load Lila up with sugar when she babysits her. The other night, Lila came home and I swear I thought someone had slipped her some Methamphetamine. It was not pleasant.
If you have never been in the presence of a kid wound up in this manner, I will take you through it now.
First, the mania. Lila ran and ran and ran and ran and the whole time was babbling and talking about god knows what at a volume that would rival the best of the Arena Rock shows from the 80's, complete with the screaming and some head banging. It was about 45 minutes of "Mommy...MAMA...MAMA...MOMMY...MOMMY....MOM....MAMA!!!!!! All of this was punctuated by little trips or falls where she would have a total nervous breakdown and scream and pound her face into the floor/wall/chairs and then, suddenly, jump back up and laugh maniacally and run some more.
It was getting close to dinner time and although I KNEW that she wasn't going to sit in her chair to eat, Ben insisted that we try. See, here's another thing I never understood until I had my own spawn: If your kid doesn't eat dinner, she doesn't sleep well because she is hungry. So you will do anything to get a few good helpings of mashed potatoes into the mouth because it is the difference between a rough night and a decent nights sleep. Lila threw her food at us. LAUNCHED her bowl onto the ground and screamed in a way that I held my glass of soda afraid that it might shatter.
Ben put her into bed. She jumped and yelled and screamed and in fact, we decided that she was having more fun in there than she had been having running around. Some disciplinarians we were turning out to be.
Finally, she crashed. We put her in the tub, kicking and screaming, and by the time bath time was over she could barely keep her eyes open for her story.
And she slept! My kid still wakes up most nights, but this time she slept so deeply that I had to check on her in the morning because it was freaking me out.
Note to Grandma: NO SUGAR AFTER 2PM because I don't want to deal with that shit ever again!
If you have never been in the presence of a kid wound up in this manner, I will take you through it now.
First, the mania. Lila ran and ran and ran and ran and the whole time was babbling and talking about god knows what at a volume that would rival the best of the Arena Rock shows from the 80's, complete with the screaming and some head banging. It was about 45 minutes of "Mommy...MAMA...MAMA...MOMMY...MOMMY....MOM....MAMA!!!!!! All of this was punctuated by little trips or falls where she would have a total nervous breakdown and scream and pound her face into the floor/wall/chairs and then, suddenly, jump back up and laugh maniacally and run some more.
It was getting close to dinner time and although I KNEW that she wasn't going to sit in her chair to eat, Ben insisted that we try. See, here's another thing I never understood until I had my own spawn: If your kid doesn't eat dinner, she doesn't sleep well because she is hungry. So you will do anything to get a few good helpings of mashed potatoes into the mouth because it is the difference between a rough night and a decent nights sleep. Lila threw her food at us. LAUNCHED her bowl onto the ground and screamed in a way that I held my glass of soda afraid that it might shatter.
Ben put her into bed. She jumped and yelled and screamed and in fact, we decided that she was having more fun in there than she had been having running around. Some disciplinarians we were turning out to be.
Finally, she crashed. We put her in the tub, kicking and screaming, and by the time bath time was over she could barely keep her eyes open for her story.
And she slept! My kid still wakes up most nights, but this time she slept so deeply that I had to check on her in the morning because it was freaking me out.
Note to Grandma: NO SUGAR AFTER 2PM because I don't want to deal with that shit ever again!
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Continuied Saga of my monster child
January 23, 2009 - Friday
When my kid was a teeny tiny baby, and she screamed constantly, I was sure that she could be the spawn of the devil. What I remember most vividly from that phase was that everyone who has had kids told me that the colic was "the hardest part" and that it "gets easier after that." Those assholes were lying.
Lila is starting the "terrible twos" at 18 months. If this is any indication of what kind of relationship we will have when she is 14, I am seriously ready to bail out now. She has suddenly become more demanding and has learned (not from me) that if she can't get exactly what she wants at any given moment, that the best reaction is to throw herself on the floor and cry until she throws up.
And there is no substitute for what she wants. For example, if Lila decides she has to have animal crackers in her Thomas the Tank Engine cup, and her Thomas cup is at my mothers house she will not simply accept them in any other cup or out of a cup or even in a pile that she could swim in. She screams and writhes on the floor like she is on fire. And I hate to admit it, but I hate her when she does that. I have no patience for it. Last night I picked her up, put her in her room and closed the door, which is what everyone says I need to do when she gets like that. The theory is that without the audience she will either knock it off after a few minutes or tire herself out. Lila pounded her head on the floor and screamed and screamed. 20 minutes later she was still crying and when I went in, she was like a feral animal and faught my attempts to calm her down. I started crying and Ben took over and managed to get her to relax with a bottle (yeah, I know).
She does this at least once or twice a day and it isn't just with me. She pulls that shit at my mothers house too, but the difference is that Grandma will just give in and let her have whatever it is that she wants so that she will stop crying. I tell her this isn't helping but she says it isn't her job to discipline.
Here's the thing. I have been a reluctant mother from the start. It's hard to admit that because society tells me that it makes me some kind of awful person. But I don't believe it's that unusual. I look back at my childhood from my newfound perspective and see that same exasperation on my mother's face, and although she would NEVER admit it, I know that she often felt like running away too.
It's impossible to describe the mixture of feelings that I have. I love her. She is cute and brilliant. It is fun watching her learn new things and I want to tell everyone every time she makes me proud by recognizing a picture of Elvis or bobs her head and tries to make the goat horns when Led Zepplin comes on the radio. But those things are broken up by these truly AWFUL bouts of what I would call PURE EVIL and I just want to be left alone...for days or weeks maybe.I don't know.
There is no advice that can help this because I have tried all the angles. Apparently I just have to ride this phase out, right? But then what about the next awful phase?
When my kid was a teeny tiny baby, and she screamed constantly, I was sure that she could be the spawn of the devil. What I remember most vividly from that phase was that everyone who has had kids told me that the colic was "the hardest part" and that it "gets easier after that." Those assholes were lying.
Lila is starting the "terrible twos" at 18 months. If this is any indication of what kind of relationship we will have when she is 14, I am seriously ready to bail out now. She has suddenly become more demanding and has learned (not from me) that if she can't get exactly what she wants at any given moment, that the best reaction is to throw herself on the floor and cry until she throws up.
And there is no substitute for what she wants. For example, if Lila decides she has to have animal crackers in her Thomas the Tank Engine cup, and her Thomas cup is at my mothers house she will not simply accept them in any other cup or out of a cup or even in a pile that she could swim in. She screams and writhes on the floor like she is on fire. And I hate to admit it, but I hate her when she does that. I have no patience for it. Last night I picked her up, put her in her room and closed the door, which is what everyone says I need to do when she gets like that. The theory is that without the audience she will either knock it off after a few minutes or tire herself out. Lila pounded her head on the floor and screamed and screamed. 20 minutes later she was still crying and when I went in, she was like a feral animal and faught my attempts to calm her down. I started crying and Ben took over and managed to get her to relax with a bottle (yeah, I know).
She does this at least once or twice a day and it isn't just with me. She pulls that shit at my mothers house too, but the difference is that Grandma will just give in and let her have whatever it is that she wants so that she will stop crying. I tell her this isn't helping but she says it isn't her job to discipline.
Here's the thing. I have been a reluctant mother from the start. It's hard to admit that because society tells me that it makes me some kind of awful person. But I don't believe it's that unusual. I look back at my childhood from my newfound perspective and see that same exasperation on my mother's face, and although she would NEVER admit it, I know that she often felt like running away too.
It's impossible to describe the mixture of feelings that I have. I love her. She is cute and brilliant. It is fun watching her learn new things and I want to tell everyone every time she makes me proud by recognizing a picture of Elvis or bobs her head and tries to make the goat horns when Led Zepplin comes on the radio. But those things are broken up by these truly AWFUL bouts of what I would call PURE EVIL and I just want to be left alone...for days or weeks maybe.I don't know.
There is no advice that can help this because I have tried all the angles. Apparently I just have to ride this phase out, right? But then what about the next awful phase?
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Terrible One and a Halfs
December 14, 2008 - Sunday
Now that Lila is spending a considerable amount of time with her Grandma and Ben because I am working, I no longer have 24 hour control over her. I am finding that my kid is turning into that asshole kid that I was absolutely adamant not to have.
We went to the grocery store yesterday and as I saw all the other young children sitting quietly in their prospective shopping carts, my kid proceeded to scream, kick, cry and grab at every item that came within 3 feet of her. She yelled for balloons, for meat, to get down and even for the signs hanging from the ceiling demanding to me, "GO GET".
The reason my kid behaves like that is NOT just because she is at that age. The reason that my kid is like that is because all the other adults in her life seem to think that the best way to get her to behave in the grocery store (or Target, or at the mall) is to give her whatever she asks for to play with, and Ben even lets her get out of the cart and run around. I mostly blame ben.
I dont believe I need to explain to you all why this is not okay. But apparnetly Ben doesn't see the danger of a kid who will suddenly be old enough to out run him, or grab things off the shelf and break them, or get hurt in an insanely busy grocery store on a Saturday afternoon. Ben also doesn't see why she can't play with pennies (choking factor) chew on crayons (he says they're non-toxic) or climb up our bookcase (it's anchored to the wall after all). Ben cannot conceive that what he is doing is laying the groundwork for how she is going to act in the future. She will not behave out in public. She will run around with crayons, pencils, pens, in her mouth and fall and stab her brain. She will think it is okay to climb up on anything and pull something onto her.
Maybe it's a dad thing. Maybe it's only mothers who foresee the worst possible outcome and decide that they must protect the kid at all costs, even if it means that they cry and beg to do what they want. Perhaps dads cannot think far enough ahead to predict that she is going to be an asshole who has no boundaries. Maybe this is normal. Maybe I need to quit my job (which I love) and go back to being the 24 hour gate keeper so that she can know that there are rules and that she cannot under any circumstances do whatever she wants. Because although I have told both Grandma and Ben what the rules need to be, I am finding that they both subsccribe to the "just keep her happy" method of childcare with no regard to the fact that at her age she should not be deciding what the rules are.
I want to have a polite, functional and NORMAL kid. I want her to know what is and is not allowed. Even if she has to test the limits to learn this. Even if she has to throw tantrums and cry and think it's the end of the world because she can't have a balloon. Because what I do know is that when my kid turns out to be that asshole, no one is going to say "It's her Dad's (or Grandma's) fault for spoiling her." The concensus will be that Lila's mother did a shitty job of raising her.
Shit. My kid is turning into an asshole.
On a seperate and totally unrelated note:
My parents have officially moved out of my childhood home. Ther neighborhood has long been on the decline and they had to get out of there as stabbings and armed home invasions were becoming the regular around there. They purchased a nice 2 family house with my aunt and uncle in Solvay. My mom loves it.
Here's the thing. somehow I am so emotionally retarded that I cannot actually acknowledge it in real life. In the several weeks leading up to the move, I never once mentioned it. I never wanted to go see the new house. I wouldnt even offer to leave work early to pick up Lila in the days leading up to the move so that my mom could pack, simply because I would have to acknowledge it. Yesterday Ben helped them move. I was going to stop by to see how it was going and maybe help out a little, but I got half way there and decided that I could not bear to see my old room empty. So I went home. I know that I should go to my mom's new house and help out however I can. Maybe bring over dinner. I know that's what a grown up would do. But I just can't emotionally deal. It's ridiculous, I know.
Now that Lila is spending a considerable amount of time with her Grandma and Ben because I am working, I no longer have 24 hour control over her. I am finding that my kid is turning into that asshole kid that I was absolutely adamant not to have.
We went to the grocery store yesterday and as I saw all the other young children sitting quietly in their prospective shopping carts, my kid proceeded to scream, kick, cry and grab at every item that came within 3 feet of her. She yelled for balloons, for meat, to get down and even for the signs hanging from the ceiling demanding to me, "GO GET".
The reason my kid behaves like that is NOT just because she is at that age. The reason that my kid is like that is because all the other adults in her life seem to think that the best way to get her to behave in the grocery store (or Target, or at the mall) is to give her whatever she asks for to play with, and Ben even lets her get out of the cart and run around. I mostly blame ben.
I dont believe I need to explain to you all why this is not okay. But apparnetly Ben doesn't see the danger of a kid who will suddenly be old enough to out run him, or grab things off the shelf and break them, or get hurt in an insanely busy grocery store on a Saturday afternoon. Ben also doesn't see why she can't play with pennies (choking factor) chew on crayons (he says they're non-toxic) or climb up our bookcase (it's anchored to the wall after all). Ben cannot conceive that what he is doing is laying the groundwork for how she is going to act in the future. She will not behave out in public. She will run around with crayons, pencils, pens, in her mouth and fall and stab her brain. She will think it is okay to climb up on anything and pull something onto her.
Maybe it's a dad thing. Maybe it's only mothers who foresee the worst possible outcome and decide that they must protect the kid at all costs, even if it means that they cry and beg to do what they want. Perhaps dads cannot think far enough ahead to predict that she is going to be an asshole who has no boundaries. Maybe this is normal. Maybe I need to quit my job (which I love) and go back to being the 24 hour gate keeper so that she can know that there are rules and that she cannot under any circumstances do whatever she wants. Because although I have told both Grandma and Ben what the rules need to be, I am finding that they both subsccribe to the "just keep her happy" method of childcare with no regard to the fact that at her age she should not be deciding what the rules are.
I want to have a polite, functional and NORMAL kid. I want her to know what is and is not allowed. Even if she has to test the limits to learn this. Even if she has to throw tantrums and cry and think it's the end of the world because she can't have a balloon. Because what I do know is that when my kid turns out to be that asshole, no one is going to say "It's her Dad's (or Grandma's) fault for spoiling her." The concensus will be that Lila's mother did a shitty job of raising her.
Shit. My kid is turning into an asshole.
On a seperate and totally unrelated note:
My parents have officially moved out of my childhood home. Ther neighborhood has long been on the decline and they had to get out of there as stabbings and armed home invasions were becoming the regular around there. They purchased a nice 2 family house with my aunt and uncle in Solvay. My mom loves it.
Here's the thing. somehow I am so emotionally retarded that I cannot actually acknowledge it in real life. In the several weeks leading up to the move, I never once mentioned it. I never wanted to go see the new house. I wouldnt even offer to leave work early to pick up Lila in the days leading up to the move so that my mom could pack, simply because I would have to acknowledge it. Yesterday Ben helped them move. I was going to stop by to see how it was going and maybe help out a little, but I got half way there and decided that I could not bear to see my old room empty. So I went home. I know that I should go to my mom's new house and help out however I can. Maybe bring over dinner. I know that's what a grown up would do. But I just can't emotionally deal. It's ridiculous, I know.
Monday, March 3, 2008
The kid has made her decision
The kid has decided that she no longer needs to sleep. No naps, no rest periods. And certainly no need to sleep for more than an hour or so at a time at night. It appears that she believes that there is just too much going on for her to waste her time unconscious. She confided that her new mantra is "I can sleep when I'm dead."
This is challenging to me to say the least. The fact that she vehemently hates naps is something that I am trying to work on, although there are a lot of days where I just don't have it in me to fight about it. Sometimes I just let her bounce off the walls until she wears herself out. But the nighttime thing is a new phenomenon.
After about 3 hours of sleep she wakes up to eat. She drinks her bottle and goes back to sleep with little problem. But an hour later she wakes up wide-awake and ready to party.
Lila can outscream my patience in the middle of the day. There was a time where I took the advice of the so-called experts to let her cry herself back to sleep and she would do so after 5 or 10 minutes. But lately she has been on streaks or 30-45 minutes, at which point I am wide awake anyway and so I just go try to get her back to sleep.
Last night she woke up screaming. I assumed she was hungry and got her a bottle and rocked her. She took two sips and was out cold. So I eased her back into her crib. I then went back to bed. A few minutes later, she was screaming again. I assumed she was ready to have her bottle so I gave it to her and what do you know? Two sips and she was out. We did this three times. Then I decided that since she was just wanting me, I had to put her back to bed. A few nights earlier I brought her to bed with me and she thought it was play time and kicked and giggled and stuck her hands into her sleeping daddy's mouth repeatedly. That wasn't an option. And so commenced the crying.
After 30 minutes, Ben went to get her. He picked her up, tried to give her a bottle but she refused. She wanted to play. He rocked her and she realized he was trying to get her back to sleep and that was the start of the battle of wills. She cried for 30 minutes in his arms. She just did not want to sleep. We traded.
I decided that we really do need to let her learn that night time is not play time and we aren't going to reward her antics by getting up and hanging out with her. We put her in her bed. She screamed for another 45 minutes before she finally wore herself out.
I lay there thinking what a terrible mother I am for doing this to her. If she wants me shouldn't I be there? The emotional side of me says I should. But parenting is also about teaching hard lessons, and lesson one for her is "at night, mom needs some sleep or else she won't be able to deal with your daytime antics without medication and caffeine."
This is challenging to me to say the least. The fact that she vehemently hates naps is something that I am trying to work on, although there are a lot of days where I just don't have it in me to fight about it. Sometimes I just let her bounce off the walls until she wears herself out. But the nighttime thing is a new phenomenon.
After about 3 hours of sleep she wakes up to eat. She drinks her bottle and goes back to sleep with little problem. But an hour later she wakes up wide-awake and ready to party.
Lila can outscream my patience in the middle of the day. There was a time where I took the advice of the so-called experts to let her cry herself back to sleep and she would do so after 5 or 10 minutes. But lately she has been on streaks or 30-45 minutes, at which point I am wide awake anyway and so I just go try to get her back to sleep.
Last night she woke up screaming. I assumed she was hungry and got her a bottle and rocked her. She took two sips and was out cold. So I eased her back into her crib. I then went back to bed. A few minutes later, she was screaming again. I assumed she was ready to have her bottle so I gave it to her and what do you know? Two sips and she was out. We did this three times. Then I decided that since she was just wanting me, I had to put her back to bed. A few nights earlier I brought her to bed with me and she thought it was play time and kicked and giggled and stuck her hands into her sleeping daddy's mouth repeatedly. That wasn't an option. And so commenced the crying.
After 30 minutes, Ben went to get her. He picked her up, tried to give her a bottle but she refused. She wanted to play. He rocked her and she realized he was trying to get her back to sleep and that was the start of the battle of wills. She cried for 30 minutes in his arms. She just did not want to sleep. We traded.
I decided that we really do need to let her learn that night time is not play time and we aren't going to reward her antics by getting up and hanging out with her. We put her in her bed. She screamed for another 45 minutes before she finally wore herself out.
I lay there thinking what a terrible mother I am for doing this to her. If she wants me shouldn't I be there? The emotional side of me says I should. But parenting is also about teaching hard lessons, and lesson one for her is "at night, mom needs some sleep or else she won't be able to deal with your daytime antics without medication and caffeine."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)