I wonder if it is the emerging of spring. Perhaps the sunshine has produced this result. Maybe it is the fact that they only have nine more weeks of school. Whatever it is, my daughter is in a tizzzy.
While it is an awful thing to say, "they're back there communing with the devil," I now understood what my aunts meant when referring to my older cousin and I. The two of us, as family lore tells it, would emerge from our shared bedroom in a bit of a funk. We would sometimes come out frowning or whining or emoting something less than enthusiasm with The Funny Farm. 1968-1972, the days of my early childhood and venting of feelings. Do I have 2008-2012 to endure this mini version of PMS?
My elder daughter is perhaps too much like me. She enjoys reading and writing, much like I do. She is thoughtful and caring of other people. She recognizes the "mood" of the room and can adapt quickly. She likes her clothes, hair, and possessions a certain way. She is her mother's daughter. Am I the one who gave her this "attitude?" I wonder.
Today is Monday. We planted flowers and generally had an enjoyable weekend. She had an outing with the Daisy Scouts on Saturday and raced around the neighborhood triangle on Sunday. Maybe it was too much outdoor time and the encounters with the spring trees. Whatever caused this, my daughter is a walking little pout-box this morning.
It all started with her fighting her little sister, the feisty-fearless-four-year-old, over what chair would enshrine them for breakfast. Her sister sat in "her chair" and the possessiveness of the six-year-old was reaching full boil and I hadn't even had a full latte yet! I tried to mediate the impending civil war as my daughter took her pancakes into the kitchens. Her little sister dutifully followed her, perhaps to be near her big sister, perhaps to tease. The result was an emotional outburst reminiscing a dam breaking. The flood of tears started to come with the heaves of "you like her more than me." I shook my head and wondered where did this come from?
My girls are the sunshine of my life but already this morning, a mere 1 1/2 hours since they greeted the day, I already feel like I've put in 10 hours. Who said full-time motherhood was easy? I'm being a chief ambassador and trying to negotiate a peace treaty as they mumble and grumble over who gets dressed first. My daughter is now fussing about wearing a purple sweater over her white polo shirt and tennis skirt. Don't ask me, I had jeans and a nice shirt picked out, she had a mind of her own.
The day is still young, the sun is shining, hopefully I will finish a latte and survive until afternoon kindergarten!
While it is an awful thing to say, "they're back there communing with the devil," I now understood what my aunts meant when referring to my older cousin and I. The two of us, as family lore tells it, would emerge from our shared bedroom in a bit of a funk. We would sometimes come out frowning or whining or emoting something less than enthusiasm with The Funny Farm. 1968-1972, the days of my early childhood and venting of feelings. Do I have 2008-2012 to endure this mini version of PMS?
My elder daughter is perhaps too much like me. She enjoys reading and writing, much like I do. She is thoughtful and caring of other people. She recognizes the "mood" of the room and can adapt quickly. She likes her clothes, hair, and possessions a certain way. She is her mother's daughter. Am I the one who gave her this "attitude?" I wonder.
Today is Monday. We planted flowers and generally had an enjoyable weekend. She had an outing with the Daisy Scouts on Saturday and raced around the neighborhood triangle on Sunday. Maybe it was too much outdoor time and the encounters with the spring trees. Whatever caused this, my daughter is a walking little pout-box this morning.
It all started with her fighting her little sister, the feisty-fearless-four-year-old, over what chair would enshrine them for breakfast. Her sister sat in "her chair" and the possessiveness of the six-year-old was reaching full boil and I hadn't even had a full latte yet! I tried to mediate the impending civil war as my daughter took her pancakes into the kitchens. Her little sister dutifully followed her, perhaps to be near her big sister, perhaps to tease. The result was an emotional outburst reminiscing a dam breaking. The flood of tears started to come with the heaves of "you like her more than me." I shook my head and wondered where did this come from?
My girls are the sunshine of my life but already this morning, a mere 1 1/2 hours since they greeted the day, I already feel like I've put in 10 hours. Who said full-time motherhood was easy? I'm being a chief ambassador and trying to negotiate a peace treaty as they mumble and grumble over who gets dressed first. My daughter is now fussing about wearing a purple sweater over her white polo shirt and tennis skirt. Don't ask me, I had jeans and a nice shirt picked out, she had a mind of her own.
The day is still young, the sun is shining, hopefully I will finish a latte and survive until afternoon kindergarten!
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Thoughtful dialogue is appreciated.