Girls of eight. I can write a book about it. About the fun moments, the hugs and the fun. But also about the diva behavior and the crocodile tears. About being tough with friends, a big mouth and being stubborn. Pfff. But then I need a big drink. Or a good glass of wine. Because damn… what can those chicks get the blood from under your fingernails. And then with a lot of tears to bring me off my path again. But I don't give in. I'm completely done with it now! I stand by my position.
And now please that glass of wine. To calm the mood. From me.
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I call it crocodile tears for convenience, but looking at the wiki explanation of this word I'm not sure if that's correct. It just sounds so good 😉 .
Crocodile tears are therefore feigned. Played. Real tears, but not sincere. And so I can't quite put my finger on that with my little diva. Because despite her diva behavior, the tears seem real. But does she mean it? Or is she just fed up with her punishment? I actually think the latter. How do I find out? Not, I think.
Now you are wondering what the situation is of course. It's about something small. Something very simple. She asked if she would like to take the dog out for a walk. The dog that we -of course- brought into the house because the children wanted it to. And yes, I am a huge animal lover, so most of the care falls on me. Does not matter. Just like cleaning the rabbit cage and feeding the bunnies. Which the children wanted so much. Doesn't matter.
Anyway, this afternoon I ask daughter if she would like to walk the dog. Together with her girlfriend. The sun is shining, so I don't think it's a problem. I'm on my toes because of the deadlines and appointments, so I explain to her that I would really like it. But she doesn't intend to. I ask three times. But she apparently finds it necessary to keep nagging. She doesn't want to. Why don't I go? I can do that too, right? Etcetera.
I don't want to let things go further in front of her friend, so I grab the leash and go for a spin. Along the way I 'forge' my punishment.
Of course I have tried many times before to pull out all my parenting wisdom at moments like this. To have a conversation. To explain what I expect and how she also has her share in our lives and therefore also has to do small things. Even though she's only eight.
And after such a conversation I sit in the evening rewarding myself for my good behavior. With a glass of wine. Yes. I handled this nicely. Educationally responsible. Well done mom! Only to find out the next day that my well-intentioned conversation apparently didn't go into those damn little ears.
And yes, I've also read all those books about relaxed parenting, about playing together, what to share and about temperamental children. Been there, done that. But it's not all that easy!
soss. I'm so full of irritation that it's a good thing I'm out for a walk to walk the dog. Can I calm down. After all, a glass of wine at noon looks so weird, doesn't it?
Along the way I think of an appropriate 'punishment'. Even though I know that punishment may not be educationally sound. f*ck. Then just for once not educationally responsible. When I get home I tell her sweetly what awaits her. No meeting for two days and no iPad or anything like that. Not meeting up may sound a bit silly, but I feel like that's really the only thing I can get through to her.
The blow hits hard. To cry. Crocodile tears or not, now I have to keep strong. Don't back down now mommy! Hold on to what you've come up with and don't succumb to that little face and those tears. As difficult as that is.
I feel like a terrible mother. A mother who can't manage to teach her child in a decent way that she can also lend a helping hand in our family. A failing bastard. One that - for lack of better - resorts to punishment instead of loving guidance.
So tonight I'm going to be fed up with wine on the couch.
But. I. hold. Full. It's only for two days, that should work, right?
Would you like to read those books I was just talking about? You can find them here, maybe it will work for you 😉 .
