As any reader of my blog knows, I have three children - 16, 11 and 9. Ever the optimist I keep hoping that as they age their behavior will improve. You would think that at 16, Lindsay who is old enough to drive, and in 18 months legally an adult would behave in a manner befitting of her age, but you would be wrong.
Take yesterday afternoon for instance, Lindsay and Sid get into a name calling argument over who would put away Sid's shoes. Lindsay was offering to do it for her and Sid resisted. They reach a stalemate, neither is giving in, both have a fistful of each shoe and they are in a tug of war. Incredulously I am in the kitchen listening to the fight escalate, until finally I can stand it no longer and tell them in a language they both understand to drop the effing shoes before I ram them up their arses, or words to that effect. They had definitely lost the plot. Honestly I wanted to knock their heads together, and if Lindsay wasn't almost as tall as me, I probably would have.
Everyone is familiar with the "Terrible Twos", which technically with my children started almost as soon as they each turned one. I remember an old boss of mine once told me that the "Twos" were nothing it was the "Fuck You Fours" you really had to watch out for. I had never heard my boss swear before, so that comment stuck with me, and by God he was right.
But how do you explain or describe those years between eight & ten ? Grady who is an absolute sweetheart now, and probably the most empathetic of my children, still almost met his maker at my hand on several occasions at that stage of his development. He would deliberately bait his sisters, (actually he still does, he has yet to learn that lesson), the answer to any & every request was a resounding "No", every statement was contradicted and he would fly into a rage without the slightest provocation. He threatened to leave home more times than I can count, until I finally gave him $20 and offered to take him to the train station. That stopped him in his tracks - no pun intended.
Sid is at that stage now, as evidenced by the shoe fight yesterday. Why couldn't she have just let Lindsay put away her shoes for her ? What is wrong with the child ?. Unfortunately as my husband persists in pointing out to me time and time again, Sid is a mini-me. She definitely has my temper, and not a day goes by without at least one WTF ? moment.
When Sid was at the "Fuck You Fours" stage, she was a little termagant, (which is also how my father was known to have described me). I remember one particular day that stood out when she decided that she didn't like any of her underwear. Screaming, slamming doors, tears (and that was just me), no matter what, she found a problem with each and every pair. I'd pull them on her, she'd pull them off and hurl them across the room. We were already late for school, so I gave her an ultimatum, pick a pair or go commando, because if she didn't, the third option I was ready to utilise was to leave her by the side of a deserted road, with or without underwear, I didn't really care at that point. I think she chose commando.
Five years on and not much has changed. She is has gotten over her underwear aversion, I hasten to add, but this morning it was the shoes again. She has been adamant that she get shoes with laces, but she refuses to learn how to tie them. Grady was trying to help her, but she wanted none of it. I finally sat her down and tied them up - too loose. Undid them and started again - too tight this time. Tough shit, I'm out of patience. The next thing I see is a shoe flying across the living room. I hate to admit it, but that girl has a bloody good arm. Enough already, she is given 30 seconds to put on her shoes or she goes to school in her socks. Grady isn't helping by hovering on the sidelines, alternating taunts between "You're in trouble" and "I told you so". See above re; baiting his sister! He is lucky the second shoe didn't nail him in the head.
My children know that I carry out my threats, or as I prefer to call them, "consequences", so Sid decided to avoid the "going to school in socks" option and reluctantly donned her shoes. She did however make it very apparent she was not happy, as evidenced by the slamming of the front door and the slow stomp down the path. If I hadn't caught on by then as to how she felt about me, the unyielding death glare that I glimpsed in the in the rear view mirror as we drove to school was a pretty good clue.
This post goes out to my friend Shari, who is experiencing her own version of the F/U Fours. Best of luck with that !
No comments:
Post a Comment