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Showing posts with label frustration. Show all posts
Showing posts with label frustration. Show all posts

Monday, January 9, 2012

1,825 days

My sweet Lottie,
You are five years old.  I'm not quite sure where the time has gone as it feels like only a few weeks ago that you were born.  Like I said in a blog for Dallas, the days move slowly but the years have passed quickly.  I have learned so much from you in five years, and I look forward to a lifetime of getting to know you.




The day before you came into the world, I spent the whole day shopping with Mimi and walking around.  The doctor had told me earlier in the week that you wouldn't be arriving anytime soon; you fooled everyone, though!  You arrived on your due date, January 10, 2007.  Even that day, you were stubborn and refused to meet us at first.  After quite a bit of labor and not enough action, you finally arrived via C-section.  We noticed right away that you had an amazing set of lungs on you, and you haven't stopped using them since.




You were always meant to be our baby.  I lost a pregnancy before you were born, and I was so scared to try again.  But you surprised us by making your presence known quickly; you still make sure everyone in a room knows you're there.  I was nervous throughout my pregnancy with you, and sometimes I wonder if that has made you the little worrier you are sometimes.  I think you worry because you want everyone to be happy and everything to be wonderful.



You have an extremely kind and tender heart.  You don't like to see others in pain, and you always do whatever you can to help.  Before my shoulder surgery last summer, you always brought me wet paper towels because you just knew they would help my shoulder feel better.  Whenever your brother hurts himself, you're there to kiss him, hug him, or get him a toy to distract him.  You're gentle and kind to animals, especially Judy, our cat, and Arnie, Mimi and Pop Pop's dog. I know you would love to have a dog of your own someday; we'll see.  :)  The other day, I walked into the living room where you were looking at a book.  I found you in tears, and when I asked what was wrong, you told me that you were so heartbroken that Jackie Paper had forgotten about Puff the Magic Dragon.  You can't stand the thought of someone being excluded or alone.


You were born to be a big sister. I was anxious about bringing a baby home to you because you were only twenty months old when Dallas was born; you were still just a baby yourself.  I needn't have worried, because from the moment we brought him home, you were completely in love with him.  You watch out for Dallas like he was your son instead of mine, especially when it comes to his food allergies.  I know that no taste of dairy or egg will pass his lips if you're around.  Sure, sometimes you get a little bossy with Dallas, but that's the nature of protecting the ones we love. The older you get, the better you both play together, and that makes my heart sing. A couple of weeks ago, you were playing together pretty roughly, and Dallas bit your finger.  When I put him in a time out, you defended him and told me that it was totally an accident, and you were sure he had no idea your finger was in his mouth when he bit down.  Right now, you're best friends, and I hope that will continue as you get older.  You'll make a lot of friends in your lifetime, but a sibling is a special person forever.

Speaking of friends, you have plenty!  I don't think you have ever met a stranger in your life.  Your sweet nature and friendly attitude shine through wherever we are.  You have made friends all over: the park, the mall, Disney World, Monkey Joe's, and even the museum in Cincinnati.  You don't like to be alone very often, and you have a knack for winning people over so you usually have someone around you.  When we walk into school together, everyone stops to speak to you.  I think that every teacher, every parent, and every student in that school, regardless of age, knows who you are. Other mothers have said, "Oh, you're Lottie's mom?  My son/daughter just loves Lottie!" It makes me so proud that you're a friend to everyone.  Every day is a party for you.  You want to see someone or do something exciting and new.  I truly think you would go to college tomorrow if I would let you.  :)  But I'm not ready for that quite yet.  You also love being around our family.  Grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins...the more, the merrier!  I think it's great that you love with your whole heart and never hold back.


We definitely have our moments, though.  You're stubborn and dramatic, but that goes hand-in-hand with your strong emotions.  It's hard to have the intense feelings that you have, and sometimes those feelings boil over into frustration or exhaustion; I know all this because you inherited your extreme emotions from me. In the future, you'll be able to control your feelings a little better, but until then, I'll be there to help you figure things out.  You are sort of our experiment; we're learning what to do along with you.  I know we have made some mistakes as parents, but you seem to have weathered the storm with us.


I'm so proud of you, sweetheart.  You are everything I could ever hope for in a daughter.  You are absolutely beautiful, inside and out, and best of all, you are kind.  With your intelligence, sense of humor, and your sense of empathy, the whole world is open in front of you.  Daddy and I know that no matter what you choose to do, you'll be a success.

Pixie dust, baby.  Oh, how I love you.

Thursday, December 1, 2011

The sorrow of giving

One of the things I love most about holidays is picking out just the right gift for someone; something that will make that person smile or gasp or tear up with joy.  We're told from an early age that giving is better than receiving, but apparently it takes quite a while for that lesson to sink in.

I got to experience some serious preschool rage today that all stemmed from one wrapped gift.  Lottie was invited to a birthday party, and I had the birthday boy's gift gaily wrapped and ready to go.  I did that while the kids were at school, and I distinctly remember thinking that I should put the gift away so that neither Lottie nor Dallas was tempted to open it.  I forgot, and that's when things got ugly.



As soon as Dallas saw that package, he was all over it.  He dragged a stool halfway across the kitchen so he could get his face closer to the gift.  As his hand reached out to touch it, I told him that the gift was for Lottie's friend Loren for his birthday.  With a scowl on his face, Dallas said, "No, it's my birthday."  I gently reminded him that he had already had his birthday and had gotten a lot of nice gifts then.  Mistake, Mama.  Big mistake.  He knocked over the wooden stool, threw himself on the ground and yelled that he had NOT had his birthday and he wanted that gift RIGHT. NOW.  I told him that I understood that he was frustrated, and he yelled at me to stop talking.  After warning him that he couldn't speak to me that way, I left the room.  He followed.

He threw himself down on the living room floor and repeated over and over, "You can't tell me.  It's my birthday, too.  You can't talk to me about that."  I ignored him until he came over and stared at me from six inches away.  When I smiled at him, he yelled at me again.  Time out, buddy.  Three minutes of lusty crying and yelling ensued.  The whole time, he was saying that he wanted me to stop talking and not look at him.  So when I left the room again, naturally, he followed me.  Because that's what you do when you want someone to leave you alone, right?  <Insert eye roll,>

The drama continued for a while longer upstairs, and I let him get it all out.  Finally, he came to me and said, "Mama, I'm sorry I yelled at you.  I'm so sorry."  We had a really sweet hug, and he said, "Can we talk about it?"  When I asked what he wanted to talk about, he said he wanted to talk about how he yelled at me.  I told him that it hurt my feelings, and then he cried again.  It's hard to be three.  I told him that I understood his frustration; it's difficult to watch someone else get gifts and not get any of your own.  He was pretty confused by his response to not getting the gift, and I'm sure he didn't fully understand why he was so sad and angry.  Parenting is hard all the time, but it's really difficult when things can't be explained in a logical way.  Three year olds aren't too keen on logic.  Then again, I'm not either half the time, so I feel his pain.  I didn't mind the tantrum so much because I know he needs a way to express his frustration, but I also want him to understand that other people are allowed to have special days and be feted.  We all deserve to feel special without someone else taking over our celebration.  But he's three, and we'll get to that point little by little.

The day ended well with Dallas and I snuggled up in our bed reading books together.  He kept leaning over and giving me kisses and zorberts on my arm.  I know that was his way of showing how sorry he was that he had acted out this afternoon.  Lottie breathes drama in and out just like air, so emotions aren't especially scary to her: my boy is more sensitive, and emotions are intimidating to him sometimes.    But I knew all was well when he came into my room before bedtime to look in the mirror: he was wearing his Spiderman mask and wanted to admire himself.  He stood in front of the full-length mirror for a moment, then turned and said, "I look pretty awesome, Mama.  Good night."



Christmas morning ought to be frightening crazy chaotic dramatic insane loud pretty awesome chez Wells, but I'll think about that another day.