I think we have all at one time or another identified something we would “never” do. We believe so strongly in our convictions that we are confident enough to put it out there and affirm that we will NEVER eat Brussels sprouts, or ride a motorcycle without a helmet or bleach our hair. Then one day, completely out of the blue, there you are…motorcycling down the highway with a bowl of Brussels sprouts in one hand, your platinum blond locks flowing without benefit of cranial protection. The point is, you can never say “never” because you don’t know what the future holds.
When I became a parent, I harbored grand illusions that I would be the world’s greatest mom and that as a result of my greatness, my kid would be polite, respectful, kind, thoughtful and sweet. Well, she is, but just not to me. I swore to myself that I would set a bedtime routine that never wavered, that I would never allow her to eat processed sugar and I would never let her go outside in the nude. Three strikes. I failed at all of those.
I also failed with discipline. I believe in spanking, but not beating. I believe in time-outs, but in the form of standing in the corner. I believe that children should never say, at the age of four, “You are ruining my life.”
It was hard to take. I lost my temper and did something I swore to myself and others that I would NEVER do. I am ashamed of my actions and apologized to the Pie for hurting her. I meant it sincerely and she accepted my apology with a hug and kiss. My mind still reels at the thought of it…her wide indigo eyes filled with shock, how she stepped backwards away from me…it disgusts me and I feel like such a terrible parent.
What I learned from this incident is that I need help. It is not easy for me to ask for assistance. I would often rather just suck it up and tough it out. But it’s not just me we’re talking about. It’s the Pie, too. I cannot bear to see her confused face in my mind’s eye, remembering the sound of her cries. So I am seeking counseling to get some guidance on parenting and life-management. I surrender.
Being a single mom who also cares for an elderly parent is tough, people. There is no one to help ease the burden; and now that my best friend is gone, I can’t even vent about it! So I will see a professional who can offer me the help I need.
Because although I swore it would never happen, the handprint on the Pie’s left cheek is proof that it did.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Those Three Little Words
Admittedly, it’s been a difficult month and on occasion I failed to provide my daughter with the attention she desired and deserved. Losing her Mimi may have had a larger impact on her that I originally thought, or maybe in my stressed out and grieving haze, I didn’t notice her unhappiness. In any event, today, she said those magic three little words that start wars and manage to cause the jaws of many a parent to clench… I HATE YOU!
Yep. There it is. She hates me…and she’s 4. My heart seized and my brain convulsed inside my skull, thinking, “Did she just say what I THINK she said?” I managed to make it into my teens before I ever slung that one on my mom! Hearing those words truly horrified me. But I took a breath and said, “That’s okay, you have a right to feel that way, but I love you no matter what.” Yeah, I’ve read a few books, watched some Oprah and scanned a couple of articles in parenting magazines. Yippee for me.
Truth? That little girl hurt my feelings. No one wants to hear that someone hates him or her – not even if you hate him or her right back! (Yikes, second grade, anyone? And by the way, I cannot bring myself to cause grammatical dissonance by using “no one” and “them.”) Especially if you surrendered your body, for 9 months (10 months really, but who’s counting?), labored for 22 hours and underwent major surgery to give life to that person!! This is the thanks I get? I know that lately my heart has been firmly encamped upon my sleeve and feelings run rampant with little or no notice, but should I have to put up with this? How can I allow this little person who can’t spell more than her own name and still wears training pants to bed to damage me so?
After calming down and drowning my sorrows in a 12-ounce can of Diet Dr. Pepper, I realized that it is BECAUSE I surrendered my body to her, at which time I gave over my life – heart and soul – to her, that she can hurt me with her words. Logically, I know the she does indeed NOT hate me, but that she is frustrated by me at times and that’s the only way she can tell me. There are times I wish I never encouraged her to speak, but she needs her little voice to tell me, in her own inimitable way, how she feels. I would rather hear her tell me she hates me than wind up explaining to the media in 10 years that she was a quiet kid and I had no idea she planned to open fire on her school.
This way, we can deal with what she feels when she feels it and I can get on to doing whatever I was doing before my life fell apart.
Yep. There it is. She hates me…and she’s 4. My heart seized and my brain convulsed inside my skull, thinking, “Did she just say what I THINK she said?” I managed to make it into my teens before I ever slung that one on my mom! Hearing those words truly horrified me. But I took a breath and said, “That’s okay, you have a right to feel that way, but I love you no matter what.” Yeah, I’ve read a few books, watched some Oprah and scanned a couple of articles in parenting magazines. Yippee for me.
Truth? That little girl hurt my feelings. No one wants to hear that someone hates him or her – not even if you hate him or her right back! (Yikes, second grade, anyone? And by the way, I cannot bring myself to cause grammatical dissonance by using “no one” and “them.”) Especially if you surrendered your body, for 9 months (10 months really, but who’s counting?), labored for 22 hours and underwent major surgery to give life to that person!! This is the thanks I get? I know that lately my heart has been firmly encamped upon my sleeve and feelings run rampant with little or no notice, but should I have to put up with this? How can I allow this little person who can’t spell more than her own name and still wears training pants to bed to damage me so?
After calming down and drowning my sorrows in a 12-ounce can of Diet Dr. Pepper, I realized that it is BECAUSE I surrendered my body to her, at which time I gave over my life – heart and soul – to her, that she can hurt me with her words. Logically, I know the she does indeed NOT hate me, but that she is frustrated by me at times and that’s the only way she can tell me. There are times I wish I never encouraged her to speak, but she needs her little voice to tell me, in her own inimitable way, how she feels. I would rather hear her tell me she hates me than wind up explaining to the media in 10 years that she was a quiet kid and I had no idea she planned to open fire on her school.
This way, we can deal with what she feels when she feels it and I can get on to doing whatever I was doing before my life fell apart.
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