Anyone who knows me, or has been privy to carrying on a conversation for more than 15 minutes with me, has probably been subjected to hearing my rants about my ten-year-old daughter, Nyomi. Well, to start off with- she is beautiful, charismatic, artistic and brilliant. However, she is also a handful- to say the least.
When I found out I was giving birth to my first daughter in 2001, I was ecstatic. Finally, I would have a living baby doll! Just like I had always dreamed when I was a child. I imagined she and I doing picturesque mother-daughter activities like baking cookies, sewing, painting our nails, and shopping. While I was pregnant with her I made her clothes myself and crocheted matching hats. I hand-decorated her bassinet with lace, ruffles and flowers.
I was thrilled when she was born on the 7th of June because my own birthday is on the 7th of October. I felt it was a sign. We are kindred spirits.
But then-minutes after she was born, she looked at me, and she started crying. And crying, and crying. She cried when I held her. She cried when I changed her diaper. She cried when I bathed her. When I dressed her, brushed her hair, just anything I did with her, she was always crying. She did not have colic of the variety where babies cry incessantly for no apparent reason. She was definitely crying around me. She was happy when her father was holding her. She slept well enough for an infant, and as long as I wasn’t interacting with her directly, she was happy. The only thing we did together that did not involve her screaming at the top of her lungs was nursing.
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| First temper tantrum, a few minutes old... |
I was hurt. I knew she was only an infant, but I couldn’t help but take it personally. As she grew up, we noticed that she had a very distinct personality. She was a picky eater. She did not like the hats I made her. She did not smile at people. When we tried to teach her to sleep in her crib, she cried for hours until she started scratching at her own head, drawing blood.
When she started talking around the age of two, we noticed that her speech was not very clear. She had a normal sized vocabulary for a two year old, but she mis-pronounced her letters so badly that hardly anyone could understand her.
When her younger sister was born, she was thrilled. They have been virtually inseparable since the moment I brought her home from the hospital. However, Nyomi at times can be a bully. She is bossy, and frequently “accidentally” slaps her sister. Still, they are very close- thank goodness.
Up until she was about, I don’t know, 9 years and 364 days old, she had a nasty habit of throwing screaming temper tantrums whenever she didn’t get her way. The tantrums could happen at any moment and for any reason. Anything from we don’t have the right kind of ketchup for her French fries, to I put one too many pony tails in her hair. I found myself constantly on edge because I never knew which thing Nyomi was going to get mad about.
Nyomi is now ten years old, with just a month to go before she is 11. After years and years of dealing with her crying fits, temper tantrums and just plain being difficult, she is finally at an age where she is able to express verbally what her actual problem is! This has been very enlightening indeed, and makes me think that all along she probably had legitimate reasons for being upset, but was just unable to articulate them.
We had a talk in the car on the ride home a few weeks ago about our relationship and how we relate to each other. She was pointing out how it hurts her feelings when I yell at her. I know what she means. Out of exasperation, I often yell out “I don’t care!” For example:
Me: Nyomi, can you please pick up your underwear from the bathroom floor?
Nyomi: What? My underwear is not on the floor.
Me: Nyomi, I am standing here looking at it. I am positive this is your underwear, and didn’t you just come out of the shower?
Nyomi: Yeah, but I didn’t leave my underwear on the floor.
Me: (slightly irritated) Nyomi, can you please come to the bathroom and check- these are YOUR underwear on the floor!
Nyomi: Awww, but this is a new episode of Phinneas and Ferb! Can’t you just pick them up?
Me: (Now angry) I don’t care about that stupid show! COME PICK UP YOUR UNDERWEAR!!!
Ok, so granted there are a million better ways I could handle such situations, I will admit that. However, please bear in mind she is one of four children and I work full time, and I am just plain tired. So this is typical of our exchanges.
Well, Nyomi told me in the car that it hurts her feelings when I tell her I don’t care. And I responded, duly noted. However, I also expressed that she really hurts my feelings too when she disagrees with everything I say, and talks back when I ask her to do something, throws a fit when things are not precisely how she likes them, and when she fails to appreciate the things I am trying to do to make her happy. I told her it makes me feel like she doesn’t care about me either.
She then replied that she didn’t know that my feelings were hurt because I never told her that, I just get mad. So we made a new pact: I would stop saying “I don’t care.” But when I tell her that she is hurting my feelings, she is expected to stop being reluctant and actually listen to what I am saying to her. So far, this has been working fairly well, and there is a little less back and forth between us.
In addition, she has been able to explain exactly what she likes and doesn’t like about the food that we eat. To resolve that issue, since the rest of us are not very picky eaters, I have created a list of meals that she likes, and that I have deemed nutritionally balanced and easy enough to cook on a week-night. Each weekend, she chooses 6 meals from the list and plans our menu and shopping list. This way she feels in control of something and we never have to hear her complaining at dinner time.
Similarly, I have been consulting her on just about any plan I am making that involves her, like family outings, weekend schedules, and other group activities that she will be a part of. Maybe I am feeding her need for control, but I am hoping that I am also teaching her that when she takes ownership over the plans, she is also responsible for considering the wants and needs of others.
I absolutely can’t wait to watch her grow and develop into the powerhouse of a young lady I know she will be, and all I have to say is “watch out world- here she comes!”
