My Baby Tests Me

I know my mother cursed me. I recall well the many times she told me, "I hope you have a daughter just like you!" Maybe her mother cursed her? So many people tell me I'm just like my mother....which these days I like to think is a compliment.

After my initial panic in learning I was preggers, all I wanted was for my baby to be healthy & to be a girl. I wanted a girl because my brother had 2 boys already & one on the way & my sister had a boy. My parents had no girl grandchildren. Besides, I don't like sports, tractors, trains or trucks, video games or ninja turtles. I had no idea what I'd do with a boy! I knew I liked Barbies, baby dolls, tea parties & dress-up. I could do that.

So I had my ultrasound in the 20-24 week time frame where they can guess the baby's gender, & mine refused to cooperate. I should have known then...should have guessed. She was sleeping & we couldn't get her to roll over & show us her parts. We poked, prodded, pushed & then even when she grew perturbed by this, she wouldn't turn the right way. As she kicked & pushed back at us, all visible onscreen, she would not give us a clear view of the tell-tale features, or lack of them. So I left unknowing.

When I had my follow-up appointment with my OB, I cried while telling her this. I was very upset & disappointed. How could I properly prepare? I mean, I was sure I would love it even if it turned out to be a boy, but I needed that chance to grieve my hope if that was the case. And if she was a girl, then I could get really excited & buy the girly stuff I saw everywhere....so she helped me out. She took some measurements & some things 'weren't adding up right' so I got scheduled for another ultrasound & I learned that I was getting my girl. My sweet, precious, beautiful baby girl.

She was pretty opinionated from the get-go. I have no idea where she would acquire such a trait. Because I nursed her, she refused a bottle. I made milk like crazy- I could feed her & still pump a few ounces to freeze. We discovered later, when we wanted an evening out, that she wouldn't drink it from the bottle. No synthetic nipples for my baby. I used the frozen milk instead of water for her cereals as she began eating solids. I went to work around her 9th month of life & she was more interested in sippy cups than in bottles, so that is what we did.

Trying on Daddy's cap

Because my husband worked later in the afternoon into nights in those early years, we never had her on a good sleep schedule. That, & she fought sleep from the moment she was born. As a toddler, I would put her in her bed only to have her climb out again. repeatedly. I would go to sleep & wake up to find her next to me. I was exhausted, trying to go to sleep my self, saying, "It's midnight. You have to sleep!" But she wouldn't. Midnight was my breaking point, because you see, I wasn't working those late afternoons into the night shifts so I needed my sleep so I could function at work. She got to thinking this meant midnight was bedtime. Her little toddler voice would try to reason with me, "But Mommy, it's not bednight yet..."

Now my baby is a few weeks out from her 11th birthday. She's in 5th grade wearing juniors & adults clothing sizes & has outgrown my shoes & she has an attitude to match. Apparently, the hormones are in overdrive. 

She always has a better idea.

Hey, I know, we should go pick apples on Saturday, maybe go through a corn maze, I might say. She has a better idea. We should go to a corn maze, & then maybe pick some apples, sometime this weekend. See how that works? She also likes to argue how much better her idea is than mine. That's what I said. Then she'll argue, No, you said on Saturday. I'm giving us the whole weekend. But even if I remind her that we already have something scheduled on Sunday so Saturday is all we have, the apples & the maze were still somehow her idea & better than whatever I may have said. And she says 'you' with the disgust she might feel for scraping excrement from the soles of her shoes. I get warm & fuzzy just thinking about it.

She once put on a a completely mismatched outfit. It was turquois & white gingham shorts with a pink tee that had multiple coral & orange & bright pink jellyfish down one side.
I said, Honey, you can't wear that.
She answered, But I like it.
I said, It's fine to like it, but not in public. You can wear one or the other with something that matches.
You're stupid! was my response.

Here's a last example- I just made some lemonaid. Anyone want some?
Some what? she asks.
I answer, Some lemonaid.

Oh, lemmonn-aaid! (real-slow-like, with extra annunciation, because I clearly have an intelligence deficit.)

Right. What did you think I said?

I thought you said 'lemmaid.'

What's lemmaid? I laugh.

She shrugs, I didn't know, that's why I asked.

You didn't know what lemonaid was?

No, I, ugh, FORGET IT! You're stupid & I hate you! She runs from the room & slams her bedroom door.

So you don't want any lemonaid? I call after her.
Not from YOU!!!!! I believe she suspects I may poison her. (haha)


10th birthday at her favorite restaurant



Friends tell me that we will get past it. We will get through it. We will survive it...& I hope we do. I hope we do. So I pray this little girl that people tell me is my mini-me, this little girl with the beautiful, angelic face & big mouth that I love so much but can't spend 10 consecutive minutes with, I pray she does grow up to be ok. I hope I'm doing a decent job. I know she's getting  unconditional love, but I also hope she's learning the behavioral modifications necessary to be a decent human being. I have to believe she's still in there somewhere. As far as I can tell, she's polite to everyone except me & occasionally her sister. I have a sister too so that doesn't surprise me. I remind her & myself that it isn't my job to be her friend or to cater to her every wish, but to be her mother & teach her right from wrong, respect for others, how to be responsible & productive...& that  hope once she grows up, she will be all of those things & then we can be friends.

I want her to find her independence- when she can handle it.

I want her to make her own choices- when she makes good ones.

I want her to stand up for herself- with others.

I want her to grow up- eventually.

You see, she's always believed she's my equal. I'd tell her, you're 3, not 33. When she says but you do it, (because I will bring a drink with me into the living room but the children have been forbidden) I answer that there are different rules for grown-ups than there are for kids. I say the same thing my mother said to me, when you grow up & you have your own home & your own children, then you can set the rules.



Why? Because I said so.

Maybe we all eventually turn into our mothers.