I try to be a good mom. I really do. I do work a lot but I want to be there a lot with my kids too. Sometimes I will have lunch with them at school. It's an easy thing to do. They both eat within an hour of each other. I can get to them both within that time. My 7 year old loves it. She will hug me and kiss me and hang on me. My 9 year old keeps her distance a little bit more, which is understandable. Yesterday I went for lunch and I was trying to be cool about it. We chatted for a bit. I smoothed out her hair. When she left, I gave her a big wave and a smile and she waved back sheepishly. I went home, back to my work and felt energized and happy because I had just seen my babies.
I picked the kids up from school and my 9 year old was being really quiet. We came home and she went right up to her room. I sent out a few emails and then went up to see if she wanted a snack. I opened the door and she shot daggers at me. "Whats wrong?" She started to yell at me. "I don't want you coming to have lunch with me anymore. I hate when you try to hug me and try to touch my hair. I hate when you wave to me. You are so embarrassing - just like Papa (my dad). You are not cool or funny." Then she slammed the door in my face. Wow. I just wanted to know if she was hungry and needed a snack. I didn't know that she hated to see me in the middle of the day. I stood there and stared at her bedroom door and my heart sank into my stomach a bit. What do you even say to that? My feelings were hurt. I didn't want to have a confrontation because she was all bent out of shape, I gave her time to calm down a bit.
The rest of the afternoon didn't get any better. I made dinner and the kids did their homework. They were both in a grumpy mood. I was ready for bedtime. The kids got showered up and in their pajamas and I went in to do my nightly chat and tuck-in. I went in and sat in bed next to my 9 year old who just didn't look like herself. "Something is going on with you. Do you want to talk about it?" Yes, she wanted to talk about it. She unloaded. She wept. She told me about school and a test she took that she didn't think she did good on and a friend who wasn't being nice and a variety of other things. She is a perfectionist. She wants to be good at everything and she wants to please everyone and she really struggles because of that. She is just like her mother. I hate that for her. She thinks too far ahead. She thinks if she does bad on 1 test she won't get into college. I sat and I just listened for a long time and we talked about some solutions and it was a long chat, 40 minutes at least.
Halfway through, my 7 year old barged in and put her hands on her hips and looked at me angrily. "Well, did you forget about me?" "Go to your room, I'll be there soon." She protested, "Why does SHE get all the time?" I turned to my little one, "Because she needs me a little bit more tonight." I saw the look of betrayal on her face when I said that. She turned around and went back to her room. I know that look. I was instantly reminded of the early weeks when my second daughter was born. The feelings of conflict when you have a child who has immediate needs but your other child who needs you too. It's very difficult and it goes back and forth. Sometimes, one needs you more than the other and you have to balance that. Last night, my 9 year old needed me there to listen and rub her back and work things out and I made the choice to do that. That meant that my 7 year old had to wait. Finally she was done, she felt a little better. I kissed her head and tucked her in and said good night. Then I went to tuck in my 7 year old.
I walked in and she was laying in bed, with her arms crossed - looking at me like I was the worst person ever. She raised her eyebrows and said, "Is it your intention to make me miserable?" I had to smile at that question a little bit - my second grader questioning my intentions. She thinks she is a college professor. I climbed into bed with her and held her for a bit. "Sometimes she gets more time and sometimes you get more time." She pouted, "She always gets the most time." I sighed, "You both think that about each other." It's a battle. I have little sympathy though, because I was the oldest of 4 kids. I was lucky if my parents acknowledged my existence on a daily basis. I don't know how parents of a lot of kids do it. I hugged her and I kissed her and I told her that I love her and that I do the best that I can. I don't think she believed me but I gave it a college try.
This is hard. This whole being a parent thing. It doesn't get easier or less busy. It gets harder and more emotionally draining. Lord give strength.
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