Four and a half: pride and prejudice

So. You might remember that I have this other child:

Photo by Emily Large

I haven't written much about her lately, except in passing. In part, it's because I don't have that much time, because TWO CHILDREN. In part, it's because I have so many things that I want to capture about the baby, because so fleeting! Last baby! OMG NO MORE BABIES.

In part, I haven't written because the changes are...different with older children. They're subtler, but deeper. You don't SEE all these big leaps and bounds, like you do with babies. But they'll just come out with something that floors you once in awhile, as they so gradually, right under your very nose, continue the process of turning into real, live, actual people.

The problem is, not all of it is pretty. Some of it is really, really, really ugly. And four and a half, man, four and a half. As I said on Twitter last night, this is the age that's going to turn me into an alcoholic. There is so much whining. So much arguing. So much challenging of authority. So much refusal. So much crying. So much lying on the floor having a fit. So much sass. So much exclaiming of "NO FAIR!" SO. MUCH. I feel like I spend 90% of my time with Helene trying to thwart or correct or punish unacceptable behavior. I hate her behavior so much of the time, and I hate that I hate it. I don't want to be so irritated with her, I don't want to discipline her all the time, but I have to. I have to do SOMETHING to let her know, in no uncertain terms, that this behavior is not acceptable. I feel like I can't actually enjoy my precious little flower of a child because she's so awful.

It would be one thing if these things happened once in awhile. But we're talking multiple times a day with this stuff. Over everything. It is about three thousand times worse if she is tired.

We use time-outs (a version of the 1-2-3 Magic principles); we take away things (iPad use, TV, bedtime stories). Some days are better than others. I find that it helps if I preface everything with "we are going to do X and then we are going to do Y, and there will be NO ARGUING AND NO WHINING." Sometimes, anyhow. Sometimes, there is nothing that seems to help. I'm at a loss.

Sunday night, after five days of vacation, and running around with her cousins the entire time, and late bedtimes, and no naps, she was very tired. Nonetheless, I don't think the wretched behavior can be entirely excused by "tired." She has to learn that things are hard, that you have to do things you don't want to do, and have to behave in ways you might not feel like, because it makes everything better and nicer (and SOCIETY WILL JUST COLLAPSE, don't you understand?!).You might think, oh, if she's tired, then just put her to bed. Yes, but putting her to bed requires that THINGS be DONE. Such as a bath, and putting on pajamas, and brushing teeth, and each of these things has its own separate protest and tantrum and screaming and crying.

The dinner-bath-bed segment ended with neither parent wanting to be around her, and with a revocation of all bedtime books and stories. It was awful. Because I love bedtime stories. It's one of the things I'm really good at, and that I want her to love. I love reading books and putting expression into them, I love snuggling with her in bed while we read. I adore getting out all of my old childhood books and introducing her to them. Each night, after lights are out, she gets a story made up by one of us. Helene and her friends get to star in the stories, and all kinds of things happen, from going to space to working on a cattle ranch and rescuing a stranded baby calf and its mama. (Seth and I are pretty awesome storytellers if we do say so ourselves.)

It just all feels so negative. In a particularly sleep-deprived, hormonal, terrible mother moment a few weeks ago, I hysterically sobbed to my husband that I really, truly did love the baby more. He's just so easy. So delightful. He doesn't NEED, the way she does. I don't even know what it is that she needs, even. And then my heart sinks, because he might be just like her in a few years. That's not exactly uplifting. And this is so hard, when just a few short months ago, I declared that I couldn't imagine loving anyone or anything more than her. Yeah. Ugly.

I don't know how to get her to be more positive, for our interactions with her to be more positive. Maybe it just isn't possible, and we just have to wait it out. It's been particularly awful recently, and I'm grasping at some hope, because I just want to enjoy being with my girl again. Because she can be so much fun, and she can do so much. I can actually set her to a cooking task, like chopping scallions, and she can do it. She can almost prepare our homemade pizza all by herself. I like to color and do art projects with her, play board games,  and I love anything where we're out doing something, like at an amusement park or the beach. Something is just off right now, and we have to figure it out, or just wait for the equilibrium to come back in balance. I think I need to try to spend more time with just her. And buy a crap ton of wine in the meantime.

Comments

[A'Dell]

This is EXACTLY the situation with Claire these days. She's just not enjoyable. She's not, and I hare saying that, but she ISN'T. She spends a great deal of her days in time out and a lot of her other time throwing the fits and giving me the backtalk and arguing that LANDS HER in time out.

And more than anything when she spends her time in her room and I end the day thinking, "I am SO GLAD to be done with HER for a few hours!" it just makes me feel like a crappy mom. Ultimately, their behavior is a reflection of me and my skills, but also she's four and she's acting four and, well, four is four. FOUR.

I'm trying to just wade through it. It's horrible, but nice to know my four year old isn't the only one who has lost her freaking mind.

[Jess @ Wrangling Chaos]

Yeah. I get this.

My 9 year old is currently that child for me. The one who makes me think 'OMG I'M RUINING THEM ALL', because sometimes I don't even like her. Love, yes. Like...not so much.

Kids are insane hard. The kind of hard that makes you micromanage your own thought processes because every single thing requires so much of it.