Being a mom is my biggest challenge in life. I’m decent at being a wife. I’m decent at cooking and cleaning and making sure things run smoothly around here. I’m also a good mom. It’s the one thing I work really hard at. When I say it’s my biggest challenge I don’t mean it’s the hardest thing, although it might be. I mean it’s the thing I work at the most. I have to- it’s constantly right in front of me, staring me in the face and asking for a cookie.
Just when I think things are running smoothly, something else comes up that we have to maneuver and find our way through. And damn it if this child raising stuff didn’t come with a map of any kind. Having one girl and one boy is it’s own set of problems. What works on one definitely doesn’t work on the other and none of it makes any real sense whatsoever anyway. Having a boy is physically exhausting, but having a girl is emotionally and mentally the most life-sucking task in the history of forever. God made girls last because he knew it was going to take it out of him for a while. That’s why.
So the little diva is eight. Mostly, I don’t care for this age, but I think I get off pretty lucky because my kid is pretty awesome no matter what her age. BUT, girls in general… not easy! (We covered that already.) If it were just us in a bubble I think it’d be cake, but add in all the outside influences and crap and it’s just not. Our most recent struggle and one that I fear will be a long-term pain in our collective butts: the mean girl. How in the holy hell does The Mean Girl rear her ugly head this early on? You just try dealing with pint size mean girls. It’s the worst! And try raising a girl that can overcome the mean girl without actually becoming the mean girl. GAH!
This started for Sis last year and even though we’re in a new school and it’s SO much better, there are still days. Oh man are there days. Yesterday we had one. I can’t even say it was a Mean Girl episode because I don’t even know. I do know that my girl ran from the bus and into my arms crying and wanting to crawl into her jacket and hide (her words.) I know I still don’t know what all happened because she starts sobbing when she talks about it. I know I almost didn’t get her to school this morning and then as soon as her spelling test was over she called and said her stomach is hurting so bad she’s going to throw up and I need to come now. (She’s already on meds for acid reflux and basically an ulcer because she’s an internalizer like her mother.) So I went and got her. Who needs this crap? We’re going to cozy up on the couch and watch girl shows and enjoy the fact that she’s a good kid. Tomorrow we’ll talk again about being strong in the face of the mean girl. Today I will do the mom version of taking a hurting friend out for drinks and a night of dancing to forget the crap. That’s ice cream and making glittery crafts in front of a marathon of Victorious followed by reading “The Hunger Games” together. Dude, I told you I’m Mother of the Year. Don’t try to take my title. The only reason I’m here right now is because she’s eating lunch and told me she wants some time alone before we start our date.
And in case you think I don’t give meaningful advice, last night I wrote her a long email about friendship and reminding her that she is a good person and so on and so on. This is basically what we talk about every time this situation comes up. I just decided to write it all out so she can refer back to it in her “Emails from Mom” (where I give all my best nuggets of motherly advice and she usually loves them.) This time she responded back with “This email is to long, to long, to long, TO LONG.” To which I responded, “we need to talk about the difference between to/too/and two again.”
If you have any great motherly advice for traversing the shark infested waters of raising little divas, I’d be ALL for it! Okay, better run… she’s finished with lunch and ready for some ice cream. (Yes, I realize it’s only 11:30 am. Shut up.)
Well said. And, you rock!
I love that you share this because it just affirms for me that the pangs of thinking…maybe I want kids…are just moments of temporary insanity. I admire those of you who do it because…it’s fucking hard. And, I can’t imagine seeing this little human for whom you are responsible go through a tough time. I have a hard enough time dealing with that with my nieces. In the end, you do what you do to help her along, and it sounds to me like what you’re doing is perfect. She’ll get through the hell of adolescence and remember that mom is one cool mother effer.
And, if she needs someone to come bitch slap Mean Girl…I’ll send Col.
TL;DR = Too Long; Didn’t Read
You should always make a line at the beginning of a long email that gives a few words as to sum up the email:
TL; DR= Girls are bitches.
I have two girls, one is 6 and one is 9. I can’t believe that I am already having to deal with mean girl issues with my 6 year old. It so makes me want to storm the school and punch those kids that are messing with mine. The advice that I try to give to them is that the mean girls are just acting out because they are not loved like my kids are loved. And yeah, this might be jacked up, but I am hoping that this helps them to ignore the situation.
my son is 3 1/2 and my daughter is almost one. while i understand that she will likely have it worse some day, it crushed me to see my son rejected by a group of 5 and 6-year olds at the mall in the play area last week. and the leader of the pack was an ugly, little fat girl. yep, i said it. i wanted to smack the ugly right off her for being so mean to my little punk. i am not going to do well with this mean girl shit some day, i’ll tell you that right now.
Ha. I know exactly what you mean. I am always so tempted to tell my kids they perfect response to shut the little jerks up and but quick. Then I remember I’m trying to raise respectable little people and not assholes like their mother. 🙂
YOU need to come back to blogging.
I KNOW! Wow- I love those lips. Woah baby.
I think searching for a job sucks all my creativity out of me. Plus I’m planning a shower, have been doing my taxes and shit like that. My brain is dead. Oh, and I’m working on a book. About fifth sunday of every month. SO thanks!
I miss you too. 🙂