Three Kid Circus

My oldest is eight-and-a-half now. Taking a page from my own mother's playbook, I find myself starting almost every scolding sentence with "You are nine-years-old..."

She is still eight. And we are a mess.

She is eight, and she is almost as big as I am. I mean, I could still totally take her down. Let's not exaggerate. But when she fell asleep leaning against me on the couch, I managed to extricate myself from beneath her sprawled arms and legs, but I struggled to lift her in my arms. With sheer determination, I carried her limp form down the hallway, banging her feet against the door jamb and then whacking first her head and then mine on the desk as I tried to set her down gracefully. Then I collapsed on the floor and waited for my pulse to return to normal. That might have been the last time I will carry my daughter to her bed.

Every day we face-off. She wants to wear clothes that aren't weather-appropriate. I want her to eat oatmeal, not toast. She wants to brush her hair later. I want her to brush her teeth now. There is a lot of pouting and grumping about. I've got to finish an email. She wants me to teach her to sew. We never seem to find that middle-ground any more. We both need and want and hunger for harmony, but we both want it our way first.

My way first.

My first baby is nearly nine ("EIGHT, JEEEEEEEZ!") and she needs me more than ever. Navigating the rocky roads of elementary school friendships, a body that keeps changing on her, and finding her limelight stolen, or at least shared, with siblings, had made her resentful. I see it when her eyes follow me across the school yard at dropoff time. I hear it when she rages at me after school because she wants to stay and play, and I. just. can't. today.

Just like when she was 18 months old, and struggled with adapting to life with a sibling, sometimes I have to just cool my jets. I used to work myself to a fever pitch with mysterious busywork until my daughter hit the wall. (You like the past tense? I'm still doing this.) Her little rebellions would become an all-out assault on my sanity, and when it would become unbearable, when we both were weeping and seething, there would be this moment where I could see past all the problems. She needed me to just be present with her.

Never mind the naughty. Never mind the anger. If I could just gather her to me, and live in her world, not mine, for just a few minutes, we could bridge the rift. When she was a toddler, I'd get down on the floor with her. Tonight, I purchased a bottle of green nail polish on a whim and after the younger kids were in bed, I painted her nails a shiny frog green and just listened to her chatter. She told me a funny story about a friend at school, and talked my ear off about her halloween costume ideas. And while her nails dried, we cuddled up and read together. When I tucked her under the covers and turned out the light, I heard her sigh deeply.

"Mommy?" she said.

"Yeah, sweetie?" I turned back towards her from the doorway.

"You're the best, Mommy. I love you."

After a final kiss and smoothing of the comforter, I let go of a big sigh, too. Thirty minutes and a $0.99 bottle of nail polish can blunt the edges of an otherwise rough day. Tomorrow night, she's going to paint mine for me. I can hardly wait.

Comments

So very sweet. It really is the little day to day things that make a difference, isn't it? I have to keep re-reminding myself of that. I need to slow down, spend the time...and get some green nail polish. Great post.

Posted by: mel from freak parade | October 23, 2007 1:12 AM

I have three kids - the oldest, who is 8.5. We've been having a lot of issues lately, and you are absolutely right. Taking a 30-minute breather to spend some quality time together really helps to sort things out.

Posted by: Melissa Garrett | October 23, 2007 6:07 AM

It's pretty doggone humbling sometimes to realize just how much it means to them when you shine your light only on them for a little while. My daughter is 21 and she still needs her Mommy time some days. Thank God. :)

Posted by: BetteJo | October 23, 2007 2:55 PM

Awwww. I'm flashing forward to my own daughter and I...only 3 short years. Why do they have to grow so fast?

Posted by: Heather | October 23, 2007 6:27 PM

That was beautiful. I have to remind myself of these very things every day that I am a mother..."just look them in the eyes and Pay. Attention... Really. Pay. Attention." I have to repeat this like a mantra. Yay for green fingernail polish! p.s. I've been a "lurker" for awhile now. Love your writing.

Posted by: Jenny C. | October 24, 2007 2:28 AM

That is unbelievably sweet. I am the mother of two teenaged daughters (pray for me), so I know what of I speak: Print a copy of this blog. Highlight the last seven sentences. Put it somewhere you can access easily, but will never misplace. Because those last seven sentences? You're going to need to remember that for a LONG time.

Posted by: Fannie Mae | October 24, 2007 11:29 AM

I have an 11 1/2 year old daughter and a 6 year old daughter, and we are going through some of all of that. Hold on -- you sound like an awesome and aware Mom, so you'll be fine, but if you need to rant, go for it. ;) Some days are just like that (and others require chocolate, bubble baths, and more chocolate!)

Posted by: JenniferB | October 24, 2007 12:59 PM

My oldest will turn 8 on Sunday. You are absolutely right and you captured this age, this stage so so well. With us, it is the time every Wednesday when I get a babysitter for the others and take her to ballet, then stay and watch, or read a book, or whatever, but I am there for her, and we talk on the way to and from - usually, my favorite time of week.

Posted by: FishyGirl | October 24, 2007 6:29 PM

Oh my goodness, this is just lovely. My daughter is only 15 months old. And yet I see myself in your comment about busywork and the cure of just being with her. Congratulations on paying attention and finding a way to give you both the connection you needed. I enjoy reading your tales. You're a lucky Mommy and she's a lucky daughter.

Posted by: Miz B | October 24, 2007 9:45 PM

You know... It is so sweet to read everything that you've written. I mean, so many things are not known to me yet. My baby is just a year and a half but I bet I'll remember one day everything you've shared. What I know for sure... is that our kids give us a credit and we shoulf cherish that. Thank You.

Posted by: Liliann Haze | October 26, 2007 12:06 AM

Oh Jenny! How beautiful. There aren't many moms of kids in difficult phases like this who hit just the right note the way you did.... It's why we all love reading your stories so much -- warm admission of dilemmas and wonderful stories about the passage to a moment of sanity.

Having raised two boys I'm convinced girls are harder. Lots harder. Maybe it's what we project from ourselves or the fact that they go through periods of being mean in ways that just perfectly hit home but it always looked reeealy hard. Of course then when they grow up they're grown women who are daughters and friends -- which is the reward. What I see here is a mother so beautifully building the bridges that will bring those days of grown-up friendship into strong, solid reality.

Posted by: Cynthia Samuels | October 26, 2007 4:50 AM

My oldest is a 13 year old girl. The power struggles we have are infamous. And the sttitude is humongous. BUT... making that time for special us time has made a big difference. Painting nails, writing blogs together, watching special "us" shows on tv or cooking together. ALl have been great bonding experiences. It is a struggle to find that special time with just her but it is really worth it. Keep plugging away. It does eventually get better.

Posted by: Tracy | October 26, 2007 5:39 AM

I really needed to read that right now. Bird can be so moody. I feel like I'm living with a teenager. Which makes me very scared for when I actually am living with a teenager.

I don't always handle her moods well. Sometimes I feel like I respond in a very juvenile way. I'm working on not doing that and trying not to beat myself up in the mean time.

No matter what, though, quality time reconnects us. I think I need to schedule some of that this weekend.

Posted by: heartfull | October 26, 2007 6:49 AM

Hi Jenny,

You've Just Been Ghosted -- Come Over and Grab A Puking Pumpkin!

Mwahahaha,

Liz

Posted by: Liz | October 26, 2007 1:56 PM

Oh, and here's the ghosting link...DUH!

http://www.thisfullhouse.com/this_full_house/2007/10/holy-hannah-mon.html

Posted by: Liz | October 26, 2007 2:09 PM

Awww, that's so sweet! Can she type yet? You should let her post one :)

Posted by: Jasmine | October 30, 2007 4:20 PM