Ah, 3. It's quite an interesting age. I've been forewarned (repeatedly, as a matter of fact) that 3 is way worse than 2. She's so fiercely independent, but at times, she seems almost like a hormonal teenager (or crazy pregnant woman, for that matter) who hardly has control of her emotions. I continually think things like "If this (flopping on the couch and sobbing) is the reaction to no more jello, what will it be like when a boy breaks her heart in 15 years?" Oy vay.
My mom watched Em one day a week that first year when I was still teaching, and really enjoyed the one-on-one time with her granddaughter. She mentioned a few months ago that she'd like to have Pete one day a week as well, so she can have her snuggle time with the little man. We settled on Tuesdays so that I can have a few hours to myself (can you FEEL me beaming!!!) while Emerson is at school. This began today.
I made a really big deal of "girls day," and took her to lunch at a fave local place before school. And this morning, our play was totally dictated by her (well, I confess that it was partially dictated by the fact that the 60 mph winds knocked out our power right about the time I should have been showering, but I digress.) We made "sandcastles" out of blocks, sang lots of songs, did a project, and generally made merry. I kept thinking that it was like it used to be, you know, B.P.- Before Pete. She was that same girl I vaguely remember from January and February before her life got turned upside down. I will say, she did ask about 50 times "Mama, where's Pete? Why is Pete at Grammy's?" She loves her brother, and it's sweet to know that she misses him when he's not around.
This afternoon, after school and quiet time, we played some more. Just us girls. But she knew that the Peteless day was coming to an end and that I would have to make dinner and return to my role as Housekeeper Mama as well as Playmate Mama. And her attitude this afternoon was, shall we say, less agreeable.
And then I got frustrated. I mean, I made a big deal about making a special girls day, let her choose pretty much all of our playtime, didn't do icky stuff like dishes and laundry (ok, I confess didn't do those things as much) and generally made her the center of my universe. But by dinner and bathtime, she was back to being wicked to her Papa, snotty to Pete, and quite bossy to me. UGH! These special days are designed to let her know that she's my girl, that I love her SO MUCH, and that she doesn't need to be naughty to get my attention.
My wise, beautiful, and not even slightly dorky friend Shanna observed that kids are not like jars. There is no way to "fill them up" with love and attention. The more you give, the more they crave. I just wish I could figure out a way to let her know that she doesn't have to be snarky to get my attention and that negative attention is not something to strive for. I can't help but feel that if I were still in the classroom and this was a student instead of my offspring, I'd be able to see a solution. But genealogy is clouding my vision on this one.
By the time I get this one figured out, she'll have grown out of it. But at least I'll have some ideas in my pocket for Pete.
Make it a great week~
2 comments:
My oldest went through this and now my youngest (whom is 3 now) is going through it. I try to remember, as with anything child rearing related (especially girls), is to just take a deep breath, love her, and get through it as calmly as possible. Because you're right, by the time you figure it out, she'll be over it. That's exactly what's happened with EVERY issue I've experienced with my odlest, so I'm much more calm handling my youngest. I just realize that she is who she is and she's going through what she's going through no matter what I do or say.
Yeah - I don't know...I guess I think that as long as you always do the best you can - then their little bodies feel it in some existential way...and they may not know that they are getting the best care possible today. But someday, they will know that they were loved madly and deeply.
Post a Comment