Kaya and Mommy had a ‘Very Special Fairy Princess Picnic’ today. My next post will be all about our magical outing. But first a slight rant. An exasperated sigh that I need to get out so that I can get it out of my system and get back to the beauty and wonder that was the real part of our day. The real part being the fantasy part. The real life stuff being the exasperated part. Make sense? No, to me neither.
The thing is, Kaya and I had a perfect 3 hours of magical picnicking. Then as we approach the car, this:
“I did not have fun. I don’t like Fairy Princess Picnics. I don’t want to do this again.”
Which, I have to admit, is like a kick in the gut. Even though I know she is tired. Done. Hungry. Sad about leaving. I know she is 3 and she is upset and has not yet figured out the tools to express how she is feeling. I know this.
Yet it still hurts. It still annoys. It still pisses a mamma off.
I want to respond likewise. “Fine, we won’t ever do it again!”
I want to slam the car door on her.
Oh wait… I did do that. Shit.
It’s reflex. But I recover. I sit with her in the car and calmly discuss emotions. I discuss lying and saying what you mean. I talk about our special day and give her a kiss and a thank you for sharing such a wonderful day with me.
She wipes the kiss away and pouts “I don’t want to do that with you again. It’s not fun.”
I want to pout too. Then cry. Then scream. And slam all four doors.
Don’t worry, I refrain this time. Instead, I take a deep, slow breath. Then I tell her “Kaya, you made mommy very sad. I thought we had a very special day and now I feel sad.”
Then I turn around, start the car and drive home in silence. Inside, I am annoyed. Not so much mad as maddened. Why does she revert to negativity? Whether she is tired, hungry, overwhelmed or uncomfortable, her initial response to things is “No! I don’t like it.” Why? WHHHHYYYY? Insert a frustrated roar here.
I replay in my head what I am going to say to her. I encourage myself to stay calm and form the words I will use. Oh those wise mamma words. Shhhhh, don’t tell, but they do NOT always comes so naturally unfortunately. They need practice. Rehearsal.
Five minutes down the road, a couple minutes from home, and I decide to take a look at my pouty pountsers in the rear-view mirror. Any frustration still inside, evaporates. For she is slumped forward, drooling, fast, fast asleep. Oh my love… My gorgeous, fairy princess. My girl.
We arrive home, I unpack the car and Bal takes her upstairs for a nap. She wakes up and he asks if she had a good time. She smiles huge, shows Daddy her Princess band-aid, and answers “YES!” A little while later, she comes out of her room for a pee. She gives me a another one of those gigantic smiles and whispers “I love you Mommy!”
Oh and how I love you. Through exasperation and confusion, always, always love. If you know nothing else of life, always know this.