I'm enjoying being Soph's mom less and less lately. (She said, then gasped at how awful it sounded.) It's harder and harder to find fun/funny things to say about her, because she's less fun and funny. We're staring down the barrel of four, and I find that I'm really missing her younger days.
Granted, she's less time consuming. I can leave her in the tub without fearing that she'll drown. (Side note. Day before yesterday, I went to put her in the tub. She said the water was too hot. I said, no, it's fine. She said, "So you think it's fine do you? Well how about this?" and proceeded to flick me right in the forehead. I think she was channeling Jack Burton.) She can play in the back yard. When a friend comes over, I can set them up in the basement with a movie and some snacks and leave them be. (You know--if every 5 minutes I'm willing to get more snacks, break up the fight over who is the Swan Princess, and change the video.)
BUT, she wants me to play with her, and when I try to, it's just not very fun. She constantly dictates to me precisely what to say when playing--playing things I don't want to play. This morning I had to be Rosie and she was Caillou, and fuck dude, how painful is that? I WANT to interact with her, but lately it's just not meshing. I bought a big box of those fuzzy posters for us to color together--you know those ones you thought were so cool when you were little that your mom would never buy? Strawberry Shortcake no less. She lasted about 2 minutes, and then started whining for me to do this or get that. She tattles, she whines, she spits, she swears. She's never satisfied with the amount of fun she's having.
Plus, she's heavy as fuck, and lately wants me to carry her--which I can't because of my back. I tried to take her and Jimmy to the park the other day; she rode her bike. Then for some reason I still can't fathom, she had a melt-down of massive proportions. Screaming, crying, kicking. She wouldn't move. So I walked us home--just a block--but I was carrying her with one arm, while the other arm managed the dog's leash and the bike. Torture.
She alternates between being throwing fits over being "a big girl" when there's something she knows damn well she's not big enough to do--you know, drive the car and such, or being "too little" when she needs to pick up her blocks, get undressed for the bath, or eat something that's not orange or fried.
I just don't enjoy our time together as much anymore, and it makes me feel very, very sad. Kind of guilty too. She pisses me off and drives me crazy. She's demanding and sometimes down right mean. She whines and whines and if I let her, she'd go through about 80 band aids a day. Obviously we're going to "grow apart" in the years to come as she needs me less and less. And I know that's natural and good. I had just thought the growing wouldn't be because we don't WANT to spend time together. I'm thinking I went very, very wrong somewhere.
Today's best thing about being a mom:
Reading My Monster Mommy Loves Me
Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Kind of, well, not liking your kid (my room in Hell is now assured.)