I have been meaning to post earlier this week, but as you know life happens. The youngest member of our family is Perry Mason in the making and by day's end I just want to say "Throw the book at me."
I never wanted a lawyer in the family. No offense to my friends, that are. It's a noble profession, and today there are lots of avenues that one can pursue if they are intelligent, tenacious and savvy enough to obtain a law degree.
But I grew up with a mom and dad who although they loved each other, were like oil and water. Arguing and debating each and every little thing. I was an only child and by the time I turned 10, I was exhausted from just being around it. I used to say "Look! The sky is a lovely shade of blue today. Can the two of you at least agree on that?!" Drove me crazy. In my teen years I even begged them to get divorced. I was told "just because we don't agree on every little thing, doesn't mean we need to get a divorce." Don't agree on every little thing? More like any little thing. Years went by, and I lightened up. At my wedding, I remember looking at my parents, thinking I was glad they were still together. They were together for better or worse, and all the craziness that falls between. They are both gone now. After looking through all the cards and letters they gave one another through the years I know there was a lot of love there. I miss them both, so much.
Still, I was looking for a little less drama for my life. I found that with my husband, and I knew it when we met. It was just easy, fun, and he "got" me. First time I brought him home, one Christmas, my mom asked my cousin what she thought of him. She laughingly replied, "He's just like Sus, but in male form." No, we don't agree on some things, but we both respect each other's intelligence to know that our opinions are what make us us and heck, we're not gonna change.
We have been blessed with two wonderful daughters. The eldest, is 8 and is sensitive, emotional, and rational; well, as rational as 8 year olds go.
Our 5 year old, is another story. I knew it from the start. When she was born, and got upset, because she was wet or hungry; she would scream, cry and turn bright red-orange all over, head to toe. Scared the hell out of me! I thought she was gonna burst into flames; you know, like Jack-Jack in The Incredibles.
When she got a little older and was getting into stuff, after a few "no's" I swatted her bottom. She stopped, proceeded to rub where I had swatted, looked at her sister with a questioning look, then looked up at me and laughed. Oh no!
Next came the placating and the plotting. Asking for a treat one hour before dinner- I reply, "after dinner"; she says sweetly "Okay Mommy." I return to the kitchen a few minutes later, a few minutes too late to find she had managed to push over a bar stool, climb up and stand on the counter to obtain her prize, and is already in the process of trying to destroy the evidence. To my credit, that only happened once.
Nowadays though, she doesn't hide her efforts, she just wheels and deals, and negotiates. "I won't do this, unless you give me that." "Do you want a spanking?" Her question, not mine. Last night she asked me, after I had said no to something, (I don't ever remember) "Do you want me to throw another fit?" This was my reply: "Is this a trick question?- Listen toots, I make the rules, you follow. If you don't want to follow the rules, then there'll be consequences- such as no Spongebob for a few days." Her reply? "Mommy, do you remember when I cracked the egg on the fridge and it ran down and made a mess?" I didn't, so I said "No babe, I don't." "I know, cause you weren't here." How's that for misdirection?
Yes, I admire her tenacity. Her creativity. All the drama though, aie aie aie. Once again, I am exhausted. And I'm a lot older than 10 now.
Somewhere my mom and dad are having a great laugh. Not to mention, very proud, as am I.
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