Toddlers are more time-consuming, but at least it's pretty black and white...

You know how sometimes you just get hammered with the same message over and over again, like someone upstairs knows just what you're needing to hear?

Mine started with coming across this excerpt from an article in "People" magazine that Ellen Degeneres wrote.

Now, I realize that she probably had a more traumatic childhood than a lot of kids, but it struck me because I know there have been times when I've been annoyed with Daphne for her not being cheerful. Which isn't a big deal, unless I let myself love her less when she's not a constant ray of sunshine.

When I was Daphne's age, I was a lot like her. I remember going shopping with my mom, trying on an article of clothing and having it work, and wanting to *go home*. My mom wanted to look around. Every time. I did not. And apparently, according to her, I'd be miserable and spread the misery around, until she'd finally get fed up and we'd leave. I remember several times her getting on to me for "ruining" an outing because I was done.

What I don't remember is feeling particularly bad, penitent, or guilty about "ruining" her time. I was probably just relieved to get home.

I was a selfish kid. Most kids are. And they need to be trained to recognize selfishness and combat it, but not to "act" a certain way necessarily because I find that preferable.

Today, The Libertarian Homeschooler posted this:

There have been times that I have "mom-sensed" an "attitude" rolling off of Daphne, and have snapped at her to get over herself, only to have her cry, not understanding what "attitude" I mean.

One day, when she sat down to do school, I was insisting that she focus on a certain thing, and a couple of minutes later, she had tears in her eyes. I was torn between being baffled about what had just happened, and being frustrated that Daphne was so lazy that my forcing her to get to work made her shed enraged tears. Instead of talking to her about it in that moment, I let it go and we went on with school. Later that night, I approached her and said, "Whatever I said or did when you were starting school, I'm sorry that I made you cry." She thought about it for a moment and said, "Oh! I almost didn't know what you were talking about... but I had just listened to a sad song, and I was picturing a video for it with some characters, so it kind of made me cry."

This was a wake-up call to me not to assume that I know what is going on in my child's head because of her outward appearance.

Daphne is a good kid, and while I can't say I "enjoy" her all of the time, I'm proud of her and I'm glad she's mine. I'm fairly certain that she'd tell you she doesn't "enjoy" me all of the time, either. She doesn't like it when I sing with a song she's trying to listen to on the radio. I don't like it when I'm talking and she turns up the radio because a song she likes is on. There are things about everyone we know that we don't adore, but typically, we don't exert direct pressure to change those things in anyone but our kids (or maybe our spouses, if we're being especially dense). I think one of the most difficult tasks of parenting an older child is determining what is a character flaw that needs attention and what is a behavior that isn't necessarily my favorite, but might just be an indication of where they "are" at the time?

Actually, this *does* happen with smaller kids, but, again, the stakes don't "feel" as high. When your kid is tiny and they've been humming the same three notes all day, you still do need to check yourself before angrily sending them to their room just because you're annoyed. You can always say, "Sweetie, you've been humming that tune a long time, and I'm kind of tired of it, so can you please give my ears a rest?" Then if they keep doing it, you have to decide if it's a habit and they're just a forgetful kid or if it's purposefully to spite you and to go from there.

It feels like a whole other thing when you have a near-teenager at a restaurant with a bunch of people and the kid lays her head down on the table as though sleeping, which you then interpret at being rude because 1) eww, head oil on the table and 2) passive-aggressive "I wish we were anywhere else but here!" much? and 3) OMG, what are these people thinking about me because of what my kid's doing?---

Ouch.

There is where I have to check myself.

There are a lot of things that "irritate" me that I realize have everything to do with me, and little to do with my child. For instance, a year ago, Daphne would hold hands with me or lean on my shoulder during church. Would she now? Heck, no! She'd be mortified! But my "attitude" when she flinches away from my rubbing her back is more about my wanting to feel affirmed and accepted than it has to do with her necessarily being "rude." Thoughtless? Possibly. But I'm the adult, and I can't get offended and therefore mad and therefore act out just because my little baby doesn't want to kiss mommy goodnight like she used to.

I wish Daphne were more excited about hanging out with me. When I ask her if she wants to go to the grocery store with me, I wish she still jumped at the chance. And, yes, sometimes I don't give her a choice, and I expect her to be respectful and helpful, even if she's not skipping down the aisles... But I do miss the times when she was eager to go wherever I was. Sort of. I think I've forgotten how tiring it was never ever having a moment alone.

I wish Daphne weren't so enthusiastic about giving James and me a "date night," because, come on, who wouldn't want to go out and have dinner with us when we're so awesome?!

Would I tweak Daphne's outlook/behavior if I would? Ehh... I don't know. Would she still be "Daphne" if I could control her behavior? Because the fact is that I love Daphne, and I even love the stuff about her that gets on my nerves (which is probably all stuff that I do/have done coming back to bite me in the butt).

I can't control her and, ultimately, wouldn't want do. I do want to help her become her best self. But her best self may be so different from what I'd have have sculpted if I'd fashioned her out of my own brain that it might include pieces that I don't understand or fully appreciate. That is one of the wonders of her being her own person.

Maybe I err sometimes on the side of letting her be, but I know there are also times when I err on the side of being unreasonably terse and demanding.

There are difficult moments, but we have breakthroughs and grace. I'm working on more grace. I hope my daughter has some for me, too.

One night toward the end of SXSW, the three of us walked down to 6th Street for dinner. Daphne insisted that she wasn't hungry, she wasn't feeling well, and she wished we hadn't made her go. On the walk down, I felt like she was being a downer, asking how long the walk was, how long we'd be at dinner, etc. It's my nature to snap at that, because, good grief, buck up and enjoy your life, man.

Instead, after a while of listening to her, I explained to her that I understood that she didn't feel good. I wasn't telling her to feel better. I wasn't insisting that she feel better, or even lie about how great she felt. But I told her that the issues she was experiencing were common both to me and to most women. I mentally calculated one week every month for a potential fertility period of thirty years and realized that a "typical" woman will spend seven years of her life in a situation she can use to excuse bad behavior if she wants, but do you really want to waste that much of your life being put-upon by everything? I told her that even in feeling less-than-100%, she can choose her attitude, and then choose what words come out of her mouth and how she helps the environment around herself and others. (And let's all pray that I remember these words of wisdom.)

Later, sitting at dinner (we shared a steak and she didn't eat 1/2 of her 1/2, so she wasn't kidding about not being hungry, because usually that girl is all about the meat), Daphne said, "I'm sorry for being such a douchebag--" Yes, that's what she said. I'm sorry if that's offensive to anyone. I, for one, really appreciated it. She then explained that she wasn't feeling awesome but that she was trying to have a better attitude.

It would have been just as easy for me to explode in the frustration I felt and even make her cry a little bit, which I know I can do when I'm forceful enough... but that's pretty much bullying, and I desperately want to avoid it.

It's taken me a lot of time to start noticing things and to learn to be okay with them. For instance, I don't want Daphne to be rude, but I have accepted that she just doesn't do well in group conversations. It used to frustrate me when she'd try to have a sidebar with me if we were at dinner with a bunch of other people, because I felt like it looked rude to the other people at the table... until I started to realize that she doesn't command a room. If she's alone with me, she might talk to me for forty-five minutes straight about a topic she's interested in. But she doesn't hang out and chat with half a dozen people. That's just not how she works. 

It's a process, but I'm praying that time and persistence for us to work through the next few years with respect and our relationship intact. I genuinely don't wan to force Daphne to put a face forward that is not hers. I do love her for the alien being she is. She is of me, but she's not me, and that's a great thing. So I walk that razor's edge between expecting her to act like a decent human being, and giving her the space to become someone I wouldn't choose to become... because she's not me.

Then today in church, Jacob was teaching from Colossians 3, specifically the whole "provoke not your children to wrath" part (my mom used to accuse me of doing this when Daphne was little, but I used the excuse that she didn't have siblings to teach her to share, or to lord it over her when she lost a game, so someone had to expose her to these life realities). He said, "Nothing will exasperate a child faster than forcing them to be something they are not."

Just as I was writing that down as a reminder to myself, he paraphrased Bruce Wesley, who said something to the extent of: "Know the difference between rebellion and a kid just trying to figure out who they are."

Wow.

Let that sink in.

So, before I unleash the righteous indignation at the unmitigated gall of my child to do a certain thing, I need to look at it more closely. I don't want her to shut down who she is to be complaint. Actually, this probably isn't a risk for Daphne. She's more likely to hide that part of herself than to change it, and I want to know her fully, so I need to choose my battles wisely.

I remember as a young person being criticized variously for my speech patterns (this was during the Valley Girl days, and while I don't think we were doing that, we were doing something weird), for the clothes I wore to church, for not wanting to participate in certain events, and for wanting to participate in certain things, for chewing on my fingers, for my posture, and for a whole lot of things that, ultimately, don't matter. It was exhausting to try to manage people's expectations while still trying to grow up and address genuine areas of concern. I hope that I can discern the things worth working toward, and the things worth letting go... just like I used to take an Aleve and let her bang on a pot with a spoon long after it had ceased to be "fun."