You are NOT a Good MOM, Part II

One year ago this month, this was the only way I could show love to my new little girl. Now I am blessed to be able to hug her every day. I can't forget that...



I awakened this morning at 5:30 to the pitter patter of tiny feet running to the bathroom. I peeked in to find her perched on the toilet. Wary that it was already too late, I was pleasantly surprised to find that she had woken up and made it on time. That rarely happens when she doesn't empty her bowels before bed, so I'm truly thanking my guardian mommy angels!

I sent her back to bed and she slept until 7:00 (another miracle). When she was up for good, I asked her if she wanted me to be Good Mom or Bad Mom. She mumbled something that sounded like Good Mom, and when asked to speak up she wouldn't. I asked her if she liked how I acted yesterday and she shook her head "no." I asked her again who she wanted me to be and she very quietly but more clearly stated "Good Mom." I gave her a hug and she proceeded to say "ow" and cry, acting as though her lip had been hurt badly by my shoulder. I knew she was not hurt but was trying to find an outlet for her anger at having had to ask for Good Mom back. She often does this--making a tiny touch or brush of skin seem like someone was intentionally causing her mortal harm. She usually does it to try to turn the emotional tables on you. I set her down and told her that I loved her, I was sorry she hurt her lip on my shoulder when I hugged her, and that I would continue to work to be a Good Mom to her. BUT, I also said to her, YOU need to also continue to work to be a Good Daughter. Love and Family are not one-way streets.

So far the day has gone pretty well. She's now waking from a loooooooong nap to recoup from yesterday, and I'm blogged out. I hope that she learned something from this...I know that I have. I also know that motherhood is seriously the toughest job I'll ever love.
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You are NOT a Good Mom!

"You are NOT a good Mom!"

Rodas Reyne quietly but firmly stated this after a discussion she did not like (about why Mom asks her to use the toilet even when she doesn't think she has to go...). As I pulled her out of her car seat, I had commented that I don't do these things just to be mean but because I care about her. I told her that even though she might not see it, I try to be a pretty good Mom...to which she pulled away from me, gave me her half shrug with a quick shake of the head, and quietly but angrily disagreed.

We had actually had a good morning leading up to that, having spent two hours helping Noah's Kindergarten class paint like Paul Klee. She had been excellent the whole time, but had become distraught when she spilled some of her pretzels on the floor and I asked her to pick them up and throw them away. There were more pretzels in her bag, so it wasn't just a matter of her snack disappearing. She simply didn't want to throw them away. I think that started it. We had to hurry home to get her dressed for dance class, and on the way home I mentioned that she needed to use the toilet and then get dressed as quickly as she could so we wouldn't be late. We had time, but the girl can seriously be as slow as molasses. She usually doesn't balk about going "shinten" or pee, but she can get ornery about bowel movements, or "kaka" (it means the same whether your talking spanish or tigrynia!). Without going into further detail, let's just say that it is very important to get her bottom on a toilet regularly, so this isn't a negotiable issue. Reynie--like most three-year-olds--doesn't like non-negotiable issues.

Hence the attitude out of the car and the "bad Mom" statement.

But, instead of being the perfect mother that everyone else seems to be but I keep failing at becoming, I picked her up, plopped her down on the floor inside the house, and I regressed to three years old. I wailed about how much this "bad mother" did for her, how I flew half-way across the world for her, how I sang to her, played games and dolls with her, combed and took care of her hair (NOT EASY!), filled her closet, gave her baths, dealt with her exasperating food issues, repeatedly cleaned poop out of her pajamas or pee off of the floor...how I loved her and would not leave her!!

She sat crying and, after my tantrum, I realized that I'd blown it once again and was actually proving her point that I was, in fact, a bad Mom. My tolerance with Rodas and Noah has been spread thin lately and when Colt is gone (going on week two...) I get exhausted from trying to not let them get to me. I counted to ten...maybe 20...then decided to prove her right. I would become Bad Mom. For the whole day. I told her she had five minutes to get changed if she wanted to go to dance. She could go to the bathroom or not, but if she had an accident at dance (the teacher asked specifically that they not have to use the restroom during class) then no more dance. I explained to her that, since she seemed to think I was a bad Mom, then that is what I would be to her for the rest of the day. I would continue to be the good Mom that I strive to be for Rosalie, Wyatt and Noah, but would treat her as a bad Mom would. I told her a bad Mom probably wouldn't care if she went to dance or not, so if she wasn't ready when we had to leave then no dance. No reminders or help.

She didn't make it to dance.

Trying to act like nothing had happened, she flitted behind me the rest of the morning asking what we were going to do. I told her that I was going to do some laundry then work on the computer; she could entertain herself. I did just that. She followed me around and asked if I'd play a game with her and I said, "No, I don't want to." She didn't quite know what to do with that answer (it's usually, "Yes, just let me finish this first."). She wandered in while I was on the computer and asked what next. I told her I was going to fix myself some lunch, and she asked what she was having. I said, "I dunno, you can go fix yourself something." She laughed and said, "Nooooooo, YOU fix me lunch!" I looked soberly at her and said that a good Mom would fix her daughter a healthy lunch, but that I was not being that today so she could either get her own lunch or take what I put on her plate whenever I chose to do so. She didn't find that so funny.

I gave her two pieces of bread for lunch, after I made my own lunch, and although I knew she'd like it I also knew she would want more. I couldn't put anything else on her plate because it would either be healthy and take effort or take no effort and be unhealthy (which she'd probably love), so I settled for in-between.

After lunch, "Good Mom" usually reads her books then puts her down for a nap. When she asked about nap I said, "A good mom wants you to be healthy and get the sleep you need, but today I am not that so I don't care, take one if you want." Happily she said she didn't want a nap and continued to follow me around. Back to the computer we went, and after an hour she started to get the idea that I was not going to suddenly snap out of this funk and start to play. She worked very hard to try to have fun all by herself or make me think she was having lots of fun by herself. She actually does pretty well with independent play, especially given that she has probably never had to play by herself until she came to our family, but she would rather play with someone.

She was saved when 3:30 rolled about and the boys came home from school. They arrived with a flurry of activity, clamoring to tell me who did what to whom and who threw up in what trash can (seriously). They washed their hands and sat down to a healthy snack of grapes and crackers. I usually give Rodas the special crackers that she likes with no fruit (though it is always offered)...but not today. She got what the boys got and she was not amused. She had run to the table as soon as the plate was set down, then when she saw what it was she put her nose in the air and declared that she wasn't hungry and walked off. It was truly difficult not to laugh at the act.

After picking up Tse from dance class, I explained to all the other kids, within earshot of Rodas, what had happened with her earlier that day and that, for today, I was being the Bad Mom to her that Rodas seemed to think I was. We discussed attributes of Good Moms versus Bad Moms (loving us, helping us eat well, giving us baths, playing and talking with us, not hitting us, helping us get the sleep we need, etc.) hopefully reinforcing to Rodas why I was doing what I was doing.

Dinner came and I served spaghetti. I usually put oil and berbere on the girls' pasta instead of our spaghetti sauce, but tonight I only did it for Tse. Rodas asked for it and I said "no" because it is extra work that I'm choosing not to do for her. She said nothing more and gobbled up two servings of plain noodles (something she has pushed away a number of times before).

When it was bath time, I announced that the boys needed to get in the shower and I would be giving Tse a bath. When Tse was done, Rodas asked if she needed a bath. I said "yes" but that I wasn't going to give her one. Baths are a lot of work for Mom, especially combing out her hair, and I just didn't want to do it. A good Mom would do it because she knew her daughter needed it...but I was not being a Good Mom to Rodas today. She began to flounder a bit and let her act slip a little, for the first time all day. As all the kids began getting ready for bed, she just wandered around aimlessly. A hot water heater crisis provided a bit of excitement and interruption, but our friend and neighbor, Mr. A, came to our rescue and abated potential catastrophe (I'm so paranoid about the septic tank backing up that I'm almost relieved it's just the water heater!).

With the failed water heater turned off and draining, I set about reading to Wyatt and Tse and tucking them in (Noah was already in bed). I told Rodas she could do what she wanted and the only thing I requested was that she put on her pull-up. She wandered about holding her pull-up, and clearly wanted direction about what to do. It suddenly became tough, really tough, this Bad Mom business. I wanted to guide her to bed, doing all the nightly ritual things we always do, leaving her to drift off with happy dreams. But I also wanted this lesson to sink in and I still wasn't sure it had. She hovered in the hallway, obviously lost in what to do, and her sweet brother Wyatt suggested gently that she go to bed. I found her there ten minutes later, dressed in her pj's with pull-ups on (whew, because she DID NOT use the toilet before bed) sound asleep. Although I'm dreading what accident might be waiting for me in the middle of the night with a pent-up bladder and bowels, I am grateful this part is over.

What started out as an easy job of being a Bad Mom became achingly painful when I saw how lost she became at the end. I wonder if I went too far...if this "lesson" was really just me getting back at her for her hurtful comment. I'm sure part of it probably is, but I truly think it is a little part. I am a good Mom, or at least I truly strive to be, and I sincerely want her to understand that I do what I do and ask what I ask of her not because I am mean, but because I care about her and want her to be healthy and happy. I want her, in some way, to realize that she might not have it so bad, being stuck in our crazy household, and that, all in all, being loved isn't so bad.

To be continued tomorrow...