Raising High Maintenance
First and foremost, I would like to apologize to my mother for each of the hundred thousand times I had an outsized reaction to something that should have been relatively minor.
Secondly, I'd like to apologize to my husband, who has endured my tear-fests and rage outbursts for almost a decade. Such tenacity he has shown.
Thirdly, I should probably apologize to every room mate, boyfriend, and close friend I've ever had. During one particularly nasty fight, a college cohort accused me of always being in the midst of a crisis. Perhaps she wasn't wrong.
I now know what each and every one of you has endured with me. For my daughter, too, is high maintenance.
For example, my sweet little girl has never once in her 18 months come down sick. She's never had the sniffles or a mild cough. But she has, at least a hundred times, been DEATHLY ILL. When my daughter gets a cold, she is not long for this life, and won't let me forget it. She cannot bear being outside my arms whatsoever, for fear she will miss seeing my face one last time before she's swept off to the great beyond. She refuses sleep because sleep brings her ever closer to the chariots coming forth to carry her home. Instead she wakes every two hours all night long, wailing her unbearable distress at not being able to breathe through her tiny nose. For seven to 10 days, she is in Abraham's bosom, and will not be comforted. There is much rending of clothes and gnashing of teeth. Woe unto all around her until the virus miraculously passes.
Similarly, my precious toddler labors under the belief that she should have whatever she wants whenever she wants it, and becomes incensed at the disrespect and coldness shown her when she is denied something. Obviously it means I don't love her anymore, and -- overcome with grief -- she bawls huge hot tears from clear blue eyes. The corners of her mouth droop to the floor and her bottom lip juts out far enough to display a vase. She cries to the heavens, "WHY? Why has my mother forsaken me in my time of need!? Is there no mercy left in this world? Is there nothing just and good? If I cannot have that toy/remote control/sharp knife/permanent marker/bite of food from your plate, my life is not worth living! Alas and alack!" It's enough to break the most unfeeling man's heart.
This week, the adorable fruit of my loins registered with me another grievous injury to her mind, body, and spirit: her brother was simply TOO CLOSE. It was painfully obvious to one and all that in pushing a Tonka truck down the hallway while imitating a siren, he was attempting to stealthily charge and recklessly assault her. Never mind that he seemed to be absorbed in his own world -- she was not going to be fooled by his trickery. She was his target of pain and humiliation! She must seek refuge quickly and repeatedly, and bury her sobbing face in my knees while I try to pack up the kitchen for our impending move. God help us all if her brother wanted affection at the same moment, for I was going to have to choose between them. And everyone knows a household divided cannot stand.
Her teenage years are going to be super fun.
Secondly, I'd like to apologize to my husband, who has endured my tear-fests and rage outbursts for almost a decade. Such tenacity he has shown.
Thirdly, I should probably apologize to every room mate, boyfriend, and close friend I've ever had. During one particularly nasty fight, a college cohort accused me of always being in the midst of a crisis. Perhaps she wasn't wrong.
I now know what each and every one of you has endured with me. For my daughter, too, is high maintenance.
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| I'm going to need more of these. |
For example, my sweet little girl has never once in her 18 months come down sick. She's never had the sniffles or a mild cough. But she has, at least a hundred times, been DEATHLY ILL. When my daughter gets a cold, she is not long for this life, and won't let me forget it. She cannot bear being outside my arms whatsoever, for fear she will miss seeing my face one last time before she's swept off to the great beyond. She refuses sleep because sleep brings her ever closer to the chariots coming forth to carry her home. Instead she wakes every two hours all night long, wailing her unbearable distress at not being able to breathe through her tiny nose. For seven to 10 days, she is in Abraham's bosom, and will not be comforted. There is much rending of clothes and gnashing of teeth. Woe unto all around her until the virus miraculously passes.
Similarly, my precious toddler labors under the belief that she should have whatever she wants whenever she wants it, and becomes incensed at the disrespect and coldness shown her when she is denied something. Obviously it means I don't love her anymore, and -- overcome with grief -- she bawls huge hot tears from clear blue eyes. The corners of her mouth droop to the floor and her bottom lip juts out far enough to display a vase. She cries to the heavens, "WHY? Why has my mother forsaken me in my time of need!? Is there no mercy left in this world? Is there nothing just and good? If I cannot have that toy/remote control/sharp knife/permanent marker/bite of food from your plate, my life is not worth living! Alas and alack!" It's enough to break the most unfeeling man's heart.
This week, the adorable fruit of my loins registered with me another grievous injury to her mind, body, and spirit: her brother was simply TOO CLOSE. It was painfully obvious to one and all that in pushing a Tonka truck down the hallway while imitating a siren, he was attempting to stealthily charge and recklessly assault her. Never mind that he seemed to be absorbed in his own world -- she was not going to be fooled by his trickery. She was his target of pain and humiliation! She must seek refuge quickly and repeatedly, and bury her sobbing face in my knees while I try to pack up the kitchen for our impending move. God help us all if her brother wanted affection at the same moment, for I was going to have to choose between them. And everyone knows a household divided cannot stand.
Her teenage years are going to be super fun.
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