This is going to sound really mean. So I am going to try to sugar coat this as much as possible and really say this as delicately as I possibly can.
Hmmm. Looking for the words.
My five year old daughter is a complete pain in the ass.
I know. I KNOW. That’s really bad to say but that’s the nicest way I can put it. And I am even feeling generous right now.
Don’t get me wrong. She has those moments that all parents talk about. Those “magical” moments, where a parent looks at their child and realizes that there must be a God. I think even Atheists must feel that twinge of doubt when these moments occur. Those moments, where it feels like someone just squeezed your heart and you have to catch your breath because you can’t believe it’s even possible that you brought this amazing, independent, loving, precious, cherubic angel into the world.
I LOVE those moments. They are awesome. Those are the sparkly and glittery moments of parenthood. Where you want to dance around and throw confetti. Dance the Macarena. Or maybe just think in your heart, “How have I been so blessed?”
But those moments usually happen for me when she is sleeping. And she is not talking. And she can’t kick violently. Oh, and she is not yelling. Which is really just talking loudly, I know.
And Shaila (if you don’t know our family yet, I feel like I need to tell you her name while I have a big whining session about her) is very good at all of those things.
Yesterday, I took her three year old brother, Nico and her to the Doctor. I brought our Kindle Fire with us so that they could play games (yeah, smart thinking, Mom) and of course, they immediately start fighting over it.
Now Shaila is prone to soap star theatrics. She would make a better actress than Susan Lucci and could probably win more Emmys too. Because she instigated the fight and then tried to whack her brother across the head, I decided to put her in the corner of the Doctor’s office in “time out.”
The conversation went something like this:
Me: Shaila, you know the rules. No hitting. You have to sit in time out.
At this point I pick her up and try to seat her on the corner of the Examination Table against the wall. And then of course, Girlfriend kicks me.
Me: Shaila, you do not kick. You will be in time out longer now.
And then the tears come. Buckets.
Shaila: NOBODY LOVES ME!!NOBODY LOVES ME AT ALL!!EVERYONE JUST LOVES NICO!I DON’T LOVE ANYBODY ANYMORE BECAUSE NOBODY UNDERSTANDS ME!I AM JUST GOING TO RUN AWAY TO WHERE PEOPLE UNDERSTAND ME AND LET ME PLAY TIC TAC TOE ON THE KINDLE BY MYSELF!
I didn’t explain that her search would be futile. But of course I did the reasoning thing. Like, duh. Why bother?
Shaila: NOW LOOK MOMMY.YOU MADE ME CRY.NOW I’M GOING TO BE CRYING WHEN THE DOCTOR COMES!I DIDN’T WANT THE DOCTOR TO SEE ME LIKE THIS. HOW EMBARRASSING!YOU’RE EMBARRASSING ME!
Kind of cheeky, huh? Here is Girlfriend, yelling loud enough for the whole office complex to hear her and think I am beating her to a bloody pulp and she’s concerned about her appearance in front of the Doctor.
And so the Doctor comes in and examines them both. Nico was in there for a cold, Shaila for a rash, so the Doctor does not examine Girlfriend with a stethoscope or examine her ears or anything.
After the Doctor walks out, guess whose upset? Yeah. You guys are getting good at this.
Shaila: I DO NOT BELIEVE THIS!I CAN’T NEVEN (yes she says neven), NEVER EVER, NEVEN BELIEVE THIS!!NEVER, NEVEN IN A MILLION, 200 BILLION AND 1 YEARS!!
She crosses her arms over her chest and makes a face similar to Samara from The Ring.
Shaila: SHE DIDN’T EVEN CHECK MY HEART OR MY BREATH OR ANYTHING!!NICO GETS EVERYTHING!!
She starts snarling, (I am pretty sure that’s what I would call it) at her brother when the Nurse came back in to give Shaila a flu shot then. Nico couldn’t get one because of his cold.
Yeah, I am sure you can guess how that went.
The nurse and I had to hold Shaila down as if we were at an Exorcism. There was sweating and crying and tears, oh lawd, so many tears.
Most of them were from me as Girlfriend kept getting me square in the gut and shins a few times.
Now that I am a mother, I look at movies like The Exorcist and wonder if the daughter was really possessed or was just “strong-willed” or “spirited,” words we commonly use to describe our daughter. I am really starting to think “possessed” is really just a synonym for those words.
Look, before anybody goes and starts calling CPS on me, I just want to stress again that I love my daughter. Like, when she is awake, I love her up to the moon. It’s just that when she is sleeping, I love her all the way to Mars or somewhere else in the galaxy.
So in either case, my love is very strong.
And I appreciate what I have every day. Two healthy, hugely independent, highly suspect, insanely manipulative children.
I DO count my blessings every day.
It’s just that, for now, I also am counting my bruises.
The content written by the author in no way implies that the behavior of her children has nothing to do with her parenting skills. In fact, she is quite sure she has done irreparable damage already, starting back to when she gave up on her “Yoga for Pregnancy” videos.