Do not judge me for what I am about to say. It may sound horrible, but when I was pregnant, before finding out the sex of our daughter, I really wanted to have a boy. I did. I am sorry. Of course I knew that I would be happy & love my child no matter what. I knew the only thing that mattered was that he or she was healthy, but my hope still was that we would hear at our 20 week old ultrasound, “It’s a boy.” When my daughter arrived, I was smitten immediately and felt guilty for my original thought. I couldn’t have been happier .
Having grown up with a sister, I watched, participated & often led in the drama & conflict that ensued with our mother on a daily basis. The truth is I was afraid of my payback. Karma was going to get me on this one. I could hear my mother’s voice muttering the words, “Someday, I hope that you have a daughter & she treats you like you treat me.”
My mother must already be having herself a good chuckle from heaven, because my toddler is already jam packed with drama. She reminds me every bit of the surly teenager that I once was.
I certainly never thought that arguments over clothing choices & what shoes to wear were going to begin at 2. The fights are not over the length of her skirt just yet. What they are about is whether or not she can wear shorts when it is 50 degrees outside or that she doesn’t like the pink corduroys that seconds earlier she had just asked to wear. The other day, she asked me where her bra was. What?? “Honey, you are too young for a bra.” “I am growing bigger, Mama.” was her response. Oh boy!
“I can do it myself!”are words that I hear daily. Every attempt that I make to assist my daughter with anything from pouring her a cup of juice to putting her in her car seat are thwarted.
Tempers flare on a regular basis and end in tantrums so vicious that I almost turn numb. I am frightened because I find myself not knowing if I am handling these situations properly. If I mess up now, how will it affect her later in life? I feel inadequate to deal with this. I have tried to give her room to flex her independence and remain firm while she tests her limits. Guilt sets in as she meltdowns. Frustration slowly creeps in as well. My mother’s words come back to haunt me. The thought of losing that unconditional love that she has for me right now breaks my heart. It is hard to believe that someday the sweet sounds of her “I love yous” might turn into angry cries of disdain. With each new stage bring new challenges. I just hope I am ready to handle them all.