Scribbling Dame

Preposterous Pondering.

How Old is My Kid? Two or Two Thousand? May 3, 2010

Aaaargh.

Patience is not my virtue. In fact, I am not even sure I have anything that is considered a virtue, but I can tell you that patience is no where on that radar.

It’s not that I am always rushing to be somewhere, but I am efficient. I don’t like people wasting time and lolly-gagging because one thing I know for sure is that I have better things to do than wait for you to change lanes, fix your fucking coffee, write a check for your groceries or walk at the pace of a water buffalo.  

And this is yet another area in which my daughter vexes me. That’s right–I said vexes. She has hit this stage where the pace at which she gets ready in the morning has me 100% convinced that she is two thousand years old. Molasses is on a fast track compared to my daughter.

How is this possible? She does not have to shower or make her coffee or put on make-up!

I think it’s more about what she doesn’t do than what she does. She doesn’t want to get out of bed: a common response when we come in and say “Good morning Sunshine” is “go away,” “leave me alone,” or “don’t touch me.” Fair enough. I, too, do not like people up in my biz first thing. I can respect the need for some space to transition into the day.

She also does not want to get dressed, brush her teeth (ever) or eat breakfast, however she does want to have a say in what she wears and eats. I can’t just come in and decide for her or there will be trouble, and she is a ticking time-bomb: just because she loved oatmeal all last week does NOT mean she can tolerate it today! Also, how dare I suggest she wear something other than her pajamas or bare ass to school! 

The mornings is also the period in which she takes time to notice the little things like the rain outside or a sunflower seed on her toast or a pebble on the floor, and contemplate the importance of their place in the universe. It should be noted that she cares about none of these things on weekend mornings, when we are not on a schedule. Proof that she is out to drive me crazy. 

We have also engaged in the “I want to do it myself” stage, which I love because I know it will eventually lead to independence. But for now, I have to figure out how not to go postal because it takes her 5 full minutes to buckle her carseat OR I can suffer through the tears of frustration that reinforce my guilt of being a totalitarian dictator who is so wound up she can’t let her two-year-old embrace her independence.

I am not going to be one of those people that has my kid on a schedule every waking moment. I want to allow her to be as relaxed as possible for as long as possible. I have no problem with any of her morning actions, or lack thereof…

…as long as she can do all this by 7:30.

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