Until I saw some pictures tonight, there’s certainly a few things about the first year of my child’s life that I had forgotten.
Like the fact that she had no hair until well after her first birthday. Or the types of pacifiers she had. Or a set of clothes. Or how small she was.
And that was less than three years ago.
So it only stands to reason that when she hits her high school years I am going to forget how she is already hormonal at three years old.
Yes. It’s true. I am dealing with a threenager.
It’s not so much the attitude. I can mostly handle that. Mainly because I know I could totally take her in a feat of strength, or throw down in an arm wrestling competition and take her out. So, if she wants attitude, I’ll defeat her with strength. Or some of my own attitude. I can out-attitude with the best of them. Problem solved.
And it’s not so much the lying. Kids are going to lie to their parents. It’s just how it goes. Quick confession: Mom, I forged your signature once to get out of detention. Pretty sure the teacher knew, but it worked.
It’s the wild mood swings and the selective listening.
That’s some ish I cannot handle.
The mood swings kill me. How can someone be so excited and pleased to feed ducks old, stale bread and then cry 30 seconds later because they want to go home? In what world is that normal?
How can we be riding bikes and cracking jokes about what’s for dinner (Daddy, do you want to eat rice and cars for dinner? How about rice and grass?) and then turn on the water works because the idea of trees and beans is not as appealing?
I was building up my preparation for uncontrollable mood swings … but 12 years from now! Why do you think I’ve been watching so many John Hughes films?!
But, Lord. The listening. Or lack thereof. Egads. It kills me.
Half the time I wonder if my child’s ears are painted on.
I remember selectively listening my mom, or my teachers. I distinctly remember this. But I was 16 and it was a phase of “Leave me alone” which I presume all teenagers go through – or else pop culture and my own experiences just lied to me.
To have it happen at three years old is mind bending.
The worst part of it is actively looking your child in the eye, telling her something, and then having her completely ignore you.
And so many people say this is “the fun age.” It gets worse?
Imagine, in your adult life, your boss asks you to do something. You nod, agree and go your separate ways to handle business. When your boss returns you have one shoe off, there are crayons all over the floor and part of your shirt is above your head.
Sounds like Friday night to me.
But this is how it is … in a blink of an eye you go from Please put your shoes away to complete anarchy.
I keep thinking that this blog space is going to be a nice reminder and some sort of gift to my daughter one day. See all the funny things you did to make daddy prematurely gray?
But I think that this one is more for me. A time capsule, so I can remember when we actually hit the teenage years that I already dealt with this once.