The MamaTrip

My three year old is driving me crazy.

Overemotional.
Tattletale.
Crybaby.
Clingy.
Cheeky.
Sassy.

It's gone from the occasional sassy that's somewhat cute, to full-blown obnoxious. "CB, don't touch the sanitary napkin trashcan!" said in a theater bathroom elicits a melt-down of epic proportions. Simple requests for picking up after herself are met with deaf ears and cheeky glances (so you know she does hear you). Everything is a reason for her to melt-down. H took her chair, she doesn't WANT to pick up her room, R won't let her use the computer, she can't have more milk.

So, I went dictator on her tiny little person.

Not ACCEPTABLE! Not COOL! Not HAPPENING! Time OUT! No STORIES!

I heard echoes of my father's authoritarian approach and my mother's hysteria. And, after I put her to bed, I cried my eyes out from exhaustion and frustration at having to be a hard-case. It's the hardest part of parenting, I think. The part where you have to draw a hard line and then figure out your strategy and stay consistent despite exhaustion and wanting to just give in to get a little peace and quiet.

You want it to be effective without harming their burgeoning personalities. You want them to understand appropriate from inappropriate and differentiate between respect and disrespect without breaking their spirits.

And, in the process, sometimes this little person breaks your spirit and your heart all at once...

Then, in the morning, you go in to wake up this child, still bracing for terrific frustration, your shoulders standing sentry at your ears, your abdomen taut, body in battle formation.

What you find is an angel there, where the demon went to sleep. And the angel is loving and snuggly and kissing you all over the face, telling you she loves you. The angel is docile and sweet and simply gorgeous and your heart overflows, and the walls of frustration melt into rainbows like you were on some kind of massive acid trip.

And, that's how I'd sum up motherhood, at least today.

A really effed up acid trip... but it's happy acid...the kind you'd drop again next week.

Another Bedtime Story

What is it that is so intimate about bedtime? I suppose it's what differentiates friends from family in some ways. If I've shared my daily bedtime and waking with you, whether as a lover, a sister, a daughter, a roommate or a mother, you have innately been a part of my family.

R, H and CB have been sharing a lot of bedtime lately. All of them are enthusiastic about sleeping upstairs together. Sometimes CB is on a futon next to H or R's bed. Sometimes the three of them cram into the double bed that serves as a place to lounge, or a place to wrestle. Oftentimes, it isn't even CB's idea to sleep upstairs. In the tone and tenor of her question "Mama, can I sleep upstairs tonight?" you can hear the intonation of a whispered boys voice. Sometimes you overhear the boys planting the idea in her head in the other room.

I resisted this at first, being rigid as I am with bedtime. I've always seen bedtime as sacrosanct. It's the demarcation line between Tricia the Mother and Tricia the Person. But, as C has pointed out to me, this is a sweet time of bonding they're experiencing. We should embrace that they want to be together. So, I have begun to flex my flexibility on the subject.

Tucking CB into bed upstairs last night, I was getting ready to read to her. Both boys bounded from bed and came flying across the room and into the double bed. C lay at the foot of the bed, all my loves crammed into the tiny space. I read the book with voices, R provided color commentary about the quality of the plot, H provided vocal reading of the signs in the story. C and I provided love filled glances at one another, not quite believing our luck. These three beautiful children who have informed us that they are brothers and sister.

After the reading was done and all the children were kissed and tucked into bed, C and I met in our own room with starry eyes and full hearts. So beautiful, we said to each other over and over.

The most amazing thing, beyond the magic of our blossoming family, is that this family is a growth from a point of origin, and that point of origin is our strong, passionate love for one another. I am truly blessed to live in a house filled with such an abundance of love. My heart overflows.

...but she's ours!

We arrived home from our big weekend in Chicago with CB in tow, fresh from her stay with her Dad, his wife M and his whole family for a week. When I say fresh, I mean it the same way my mother used to say "Don't use that fresh tone with me, young lady." She's fresh, alright. Freshly spoilt. It's to be expected. But, dealing with it isn't a rose garden.

Getting your child back from their other parent is a double edged sword as with so many things in loving your child. On one hand you feel complete, an aching hole is filled, the world is brighter. On the other, your head feels like it is in a vice with the constant whining, jokes you don't find funny (but the child's other biological half clearly did) and the general exhaustion that can strike anytime, but seems to strike harder when you've had a week of peace and quiet.

I've done this before, so I know that my patience runs thin that first week, despite my joy at having my girl back. When my mother asked if she and my dad could take CB for the weekend right after she returned, I didn't hesitate with my "yes."

My sister KW decided to come out from Philly for an impromptu visit and take CB up to my parents' house for them, a day early. Monday night, sitting around the dinner table, I mentioned KW's visit and CB's subsequent departure. Much to my surprise, H got indignant. "So, CB is going away AGAIN?" he asked. I said yes. His voice went up two octaves and he said "But, we just got her back -and now she's going to leave again?!" I explained that my parents hadn't seen her at Christmas. He went on: "But, she's ours! She should be here with us, not going everywhere else!"

H's indignant response was music to my ears. So is the way he'll quietly take CB under his wing and teach her things, or the way he'll patiently play Candy Land with a two year old who has the attention span of a gnat because he sees the value of teaching her to love board games, knowing that it's an investment in years of beating her at chess. For my part, I think she'll give him a run for his money.