"If you don't need me, let me know so I could go back to work!"
That was what I told my daughter two days ago during my first biggest meltdown of the year. It was past midnight, she was still super active and totally ignoring everything I told her. And the icing on the smashed cake? I was really, really, really tired. Chores and PMS... who wouldn't just wish to rest?
We may look just fine, my husband and I, but we are actually mentally-preoccupied. My husband's car is in a major operation. I know nothing about cars but when I knew how much it would cost us, I was stunned and found myself in deep reveries most of the day. So to see my daughter still bouncy after her pre-bedtime bath and blatantly defying my rules was like a big ax in my head. I did the usual, in series ― calmly tried to get her attention, raised my voice a bit, yelled then got possessed by the green monster (not Shrek, Hulk!) ― when she did her usual preschooler-rebel-without-a-cause antics. After my Marvel movie-worthy acting, I saw fright and pain in her eyes. But because rage enveloped my whole being, I still continued my sermon and nonsense emotional outburst. We tried to finish the whole sermon-sorry-forgiveness-scene as fast as we can because we are all too drowsy to care for more. Her father reminded her of two things: obey and love me. The next day went well, until something happened again the day after.
I said this in support to my endless restraints to her endless climbing in the handrails of our stairs. I asked her why she keeps on doing that and she said "I don't know". I realized the above sentence was somewhat perplexing for a 5-year-old. I slowed down, looked deep in her eyes and felt her sadness. I felt miserable, terrible, awful. In that moment, I saw a bad, nagging mom in myself. I tried to remove the idea on my mind but it was there the whole day today. I thought it might be too late to change parenting gears. My daughter must be shouting a lot because I am shouting a lot. Sophia must be too cranky to people who'd say no to her whims because I don't take no as an answer. She must be a little wishy-washy to everything she does because I can't stick to a routine.
I expect too much change from her little 5-year-old self when it is the 29-year-old temperamental b*tch in me who has to change. I can't blame TV shows anymore as I already blocked a channel that might be a medium to her being a smart-mouthed kid. I actually lessened her TV time from all day every day to 3 hours maximum each day on weekdays, 4 hours on weekends. No need to make my being a geographically-single parent a big deal as there are millions of real single parents in the world who did great in raising their children. I can't say that she must have gotten those spoiled rotten tantrums from her nanny 'cause I'm the nanny, er — the one who's with her 24/7. Yes, the burden of seeing my girl with a bit of bratty-tude lies in my shoulders. She is a reflection of what I am and how I discipline her. Right?
Uhm, is this something you can relate with or is this solely happening to me? Please enlighten me.