Wednesday, January 26, 2005

MY Trophy--get your hands off!

I win the prize for meanest mom EVER. Nope, don’t even try to compete with me—it’s MY trophy and I’ve earned it!

Emily didn’t want what we were having for dinner last night; she said she wanted spaghetti instead. Every once in a while, I get this nice streak (no, I don’t know where it came from, so stop asking), so I made her spaghetti. Then the little… er, I mean, then my gem, my jewel, the love of my life decided that she wasn’t hungry right then, she’d rather play.

No ma’am, that doesn’t fly. Even in this house. You eat dinner at dinnertime and if you skip it because you CHOOSE to play, then you’ve also chosen to forego all foods until breakfast. (We're learning all about making choices and taking responsibility for your choices.)

When I picked her plate up off the table, she screamed. I sent her to her room. She continued to scream for nearly an hour. Fast forward to 7:30, she came out of her room quietly, found me in my sewing room, and said, “I was crying because of my attitude, but it’s gone now.” So we played on together for a while, then I went to sew. She was fantastic—and it turned out that she and Regan had a rather long IM conversation together while I was sewing. (That was REALLY funny!)

At around 8:30, Em said, “Mommy, I’m ready to eat my dinner.”

“Sorry, Honey, dinnertime is over. You’ll have to wait until breakfast.”

Holy Christ—you’d think I broke her arm or something with the wailing that followed.

And it went on until well past 10:00. Yelling, crying, hiccupping, calming down, more wailing… on and on and on. With nothing to eat or drink. Until after 10:00.

At one point she said, "I made the wrong choice about dinner!"

At another point she said, "I try and try to make my attitude go away, but it just won't!"

She also pulled out the favorite, "You're giving me bad love, Mom."

She apologized multiple times and asked if I didn't love her anymore. She asked how she could find her good manners when they left her behind so long ago.

Nights like this make me hate her father's parents. He's good at sticking to his guns, but they give her ANYTHING she wants, so she expects that if she cries and carries on long enough, eventually I'll cave. Damnit.

She woke up telling me she was hungry and asking, with big sad eyes, if she could eat now. I felt like the meanest mom in the world.

I’m not in a good mood today.