I have very strong opinions – about pretty much everything. Even if I don’t always show it, inside I am always burning. You could say I’m passionate about things that make our planet better – recycling, supporting/teaching children, being kind to one another, and treating animals right. Giving a leg up to those in need. And I’m very passionate about making my sport – hunter jumpers – accessible to kids to whom it may not generally be affordable.
But, I also have strong opinions about raising my daughter. And she, in turn, has her own very strong opinions about how I’m doing that. For example:
When said daughter takes my Diet Coke and then spills it on the carpet in the office because she’s “working” and I take the rest of the drink away and move it into the kitchen where I put it out of reach on the counter – Baby Girl very strongly feels that “you can’t take things away from people!” While sitting, crying, in the kitchen I explain that well yes, yes I can. Because I’m the mommy. “No you can’t! It’s not right to take things away from people!” When people spill Diet Cokes on the carpet then it’s ok to take the drink away from the little person who did that I explain. Baby Girl does not appreciate the logic here. We compromise with finishing the drink in the kitchen.
Also, Baby Girl very strongly feels that as long as you put the apple in the trash can it shouldn’t matter how many bites you take out of it – four or five is acceptable. Whereas, I, the mommy, feels that the apple that was asked for fourteen times ought to be fully or at least three quarters eaten before it is thrown in the trash can. Likewise, if Baby Girl insists on me buying and then having a banana, and then refuses to eat it, Mommy is going to feel very strongly annoyed. Baby Girl thinks I am overreacting. I think she is just asking for food to be in control. Mommy eats the banana. Mommy needs the potassium anyway.
I have a strong opinion about bedtime as well. I think that the fact that we have the same routine and she goes to bed at the exact same time every night is a very good thing. I believe that a little five minute, sometimes ten minute, warning that bedtime is approaching is also a good thing. I swear Baby Girl uses that five or ten minutes as an opportunity to build up her impending screech and tantrum to the “Oh My Lord is it time for wine yet?” level. Of course, that level is fairly low for me, especially at bedtime. She strongly feels that bedtime is highly overrated and should be ignored every single night. And since she can’t change my mind, she’s certainly going to let me know how she feels about it. In case I was in any doubt.
My little girl is not meek. Or mild. Or even tempered. I’ve learned it’s important not to say things like “ARRRRRGGHH DAMMMMMIT” when you get frustrated because apparently three year olds have the ability to recognize that when THEY get frustrated they should get to express themselves the exact same way.
She is mostly potty trained now. You know why? Because she decided to. I had absolutely nothing to do with it. One day she decided to wear panties. Both day and night. And that was it. A few accidents, yes, but 90% of the time she’s good. I just shake my head. All those months of worrying and trying to figure out how to “fix” it and all along she just had to make that decision for herself. I hope I remember that in the years to come.
She and I are going to butt heads. A lot. But I’m glad she’s opinionated. I’m glad she’s passionate. I hope she learns to channel those things in a positive way. And in the meantime I’ll just become overly familiar with the Total Wine store.