The reality is, that she is a button pusher, especially my buttons. She knows just what to say to break my heart, or to work me into a full blown tizzy. And she is good at it. I sink to her level so many times a day, that I sometime actually forget that I am an adult who knows better.
Today I was asking her to get ready to go out for dinner to one of her favorite places, our local tavern. She thought it much more fun to stand on her head on the sofa, or flop around with her youngest sister pouncing on her, or to mimic baby cheetah behavior. Why on earth would she want to brush her hair, find her shoes or do anything else helpful to get out the door?
After asking several times, in several different ways, she finally hears me... it isn't pretty. Still, she is not getting ready to go. No, she is burying her head in the pink sofa cushions, crying and lamenting about what a horrible person she is and how she never does anything right. She begins whining and whimpering about how stupid she is and that she can never remember anything.
Here we go. Is she actually having a break down of her self esteem because I have pushed her to the brink with my request? Or, is she pulling a fast one, trying to get attention and not actually have to do the work being asked of her?
"Stupid" is one of those words I really don't like and try to ban from our house. At some point in our history I am sure I have given her many reasons that I do not like that word. I have probably also berated her, several times before, on how important it is to listen to mommy, follow directions and try to remember the simple steps of getting ready to leave the house. So which is it? Is she goading me or am I being overbearing?
I do not know the answer. I do know that I ignore her butt sticking up in the air and the severe pouty faces, as I clean up yet a other household mess and prepare for an evening out with three small children. I do know that I am sure I will NOT give in this time. We ARE going out as a family with or without her appropriate shoes on her feet. I will stop listening to the little self degrading voice inside MY head saying how this is all my fault, and instead I put on my shoes and go start the car.
Being a mom means biting your tongue, a lot. Ouch.