I can't be 100% sure but I think my 8 year old daughter may be the most exhausting person on the planet. She really gave me a run for my money this weekend. I was awoken on Saturday morning at approximately 5:23 a.m. by my little one. I was sleeping in my oldest daughter's bed and was not quite sure how I had gotten there. We must have been playing musical beds.
She was jumping up and down in front of me. "Mom, mom - dad wants you to take out the dog." I opened one eye and looked at her and thought Uggg....who put him in charge? I dragged myself out of bed and my daughter and the dog followed me down the stairs. I felt like a zombie. I let the dog out and filled up her bowl. My daughter was tugging me. "Mom, will you make me hot chocolate, PLEASE?" I fixed her a hot chocolate and a bowl of oatmeal and then laid my tired bones on the couch. She came in. "Mom, can I watch Flea Market Flip?" "Sure." She loves this Flea Market Flip show, she is weird. I tried closing my eyes and she began to practice her cartwheels and handstands and then talk to me. "Mom, in school this week, my friend....." Does she really expect me to listen to this? I thought to myself. Then she said that she was going to wake up her sister and dad. "Don't you dare. It's 5:50 in the morning. Let them sleep." She was very angry. "They are so lazy. They are just wasting their day. Why doesn't anyone want to play with me?" Good question. So exhausting. Then she rolled up my living room rug and put on some socks to ice skate on the hardwoods.
The next day she just about lost her mind. She got mad at her sister, threw her iphone on the ground, and kicked a hole in the wall. I was downstairs doing dishes when my 10 year old came down crying. Her screen was blank. Damnit. I just paid $80 to replace the cracked screen not 10 days ago. Normally, I would just be like, "Whatever, we'll go get it fixed."
But now that I'm a stay at home mom, I'm like:
I was so pissed. I went up to yell at my daughter and discovered the hole in the wall, which she put a box in front of to cover. She was already in her room. She knew what was coming.
She was sobbing. "But mom, she was being mean to me and she told me she wished I wasn't her sister and that I was the worst person in the world." She burst into tears again. "I didn't mean to." I went into my "disappointed" speech and told her she needed to spend the rest of the afternoon in her room and that she wasn't going to a special dinner and trunk or treat with her grandmother. She was heart broken, but she did deserve it.
We have worked very extensively with our daughter and getting her to control her temper. She has done much better but there is still much more work to be done. She has always been that way though. Since she was a young baby. If she didn't like something or get her way - all hell would break loose. She is an explosive child who is easily frustrated and chronically inflexible. I know, I read the book. She tries so hard. I've discussed the possibility of ADD, OCD, ODD and everything else with her physician. She doesn't fit the profile of anything exactly. Amazingly, she is a perfect angel in school. Cooperates, isn't chatty, does what she is supposed to do. I know this requires an incredible amount of self control for her.
She reminds me so much of my baby sister. My brother used to call her Fidel Hitler Mussolini. She wanted things a certain way. If you made fun of her at the dinner table, she would throw a fork directly at you. She is incredibly smart, just like my daughter and I think that has something to do with it. In her head, she thinks she is a grown up person but she's not. I've always had the challenge. Like she doesn't understand why we get to stay up and she has to go to bed. "Because you are a child, and you have school in the morning." It makes her so mad, "BUT I AM STILL A PERSON." I mean, to be beautiful, extremely intelligent, and well behaved? That just wouldn't be fair to the rest of the world.
The hardest part of living with my exhausting child is hearing input from everyone else. Mostly, that I should just beat her. Believe me, I want to. Often. But if that the precedent, the child would be receiving perpetual beatings. It's just not an effective way to deal with her. She needs a lot of re-direction, a lot of love, an incredible amount of patience and I really need to pick my battles. I tell my husband that God gave her to us because he knew we could deal with her.
Because she is an explosive child I feel like I am on the bomb squad. If I have to tell her something that I know she doesn't want to hear, I get a little nervous. It's like disabling a bomb. You do it and then have that second where you think, "Okay, everything is going to either be okay or this thing is going to explode and kill me." I am more likely to get an explosion if she is hungry or tired but you never know. It's a crap shoot.
Yesterday morning, for instance, my daughter told me it was team day so you had to wear a shirt from your favorite sports team. We don't own sports team shirts. "Why don't you wear your Hawks shirt?" You would have thought I suggested that she bathe herself in urine. I could see the frustration building and then the all-out freak out. "NOOOOO. I HAVE TO WEAR MY HAWKS SHIRT ON SPIRIT DAY ON FRIDAY. GOD, MOM!"
Good Lord. I told her to wear whatever, but she kept pestering me because for some reason, she thinks I can materialize things out of thin air. Then, I had an idea. I ran upstairs and grabbed my high school gym shirt. I freaking love that shirt. It is so comfortable. I wear it at least once a week. It is a magical shirt because it has always fit me, no matter how fat or thin I was. It doesn't have any holes. The color held up great. They just don't make things like they used to. I went to the living room where my daughter was sitting on the couch, arms crossed, pouting. I held the shirt up, "What do you think about the Millville Thunderbolts?" She didn't say anything but I could see the wheels turning. She began to ask questions. "What exactly is a thunderbolt?" "It is the simultaneous occurrence of lightning with a clap of thunder." What kind of crap is that? Can you think of a more obscure mascot? A bull dog, a wild cat might be good. But this?
She continued to question me. "Are the thunderbolts still around?" "Ummm....yes. I was in high school in the 90s, not 1857." She continued to think about it. I knew it required more selling. So I held the shirt up and did a little dance and began to sing, "Da, da, da da, HEY GO BOLTS!" She shrugged. "Okay." Crisis avoided.
When I picked her up from school she was so excited. "Guess what mom? I was the only kid supporting the Millville Thunderbolts. I am very unique." Yes, that is an understatement.
Raising a spirited child has certainly been (and will continue to be) a challenge. I blamed myself for a long time. That there was something I had done wrong to make her be the way that she is. I often felt like a failure as a mother. Especially when she was younger and would have full on melt downs in public. Yes, I was that mom. Raising her has been a lesson on loving the child you have and letting go of the idea of how you want your child to be. It's a hard lesson. She's gotten much better as she has gotten older and she is much more manageable now than she was just a few years ago. Thank goodness. The 3-6 years were especially rough, but as you can tell, she still has her moments. When she is having her episodes, I tell her that I love her and that I will never give up on her. Never. We are in this together. Even though she can be incredibly difficult and exhausting she is a very sweet child. She is caring. She is funny. I wouldn't trade her for the world. I'll take every piece of her, because that's what unconditional love is all about. I just need her to stop breaking iphones. That'd be great.
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