Poor Alexa
Poor Alexa. She just had an episode that was sort of sad, but . . . struck me as hysterical and I had a hard time quelling my laughter.
Recently I realized that in some ways, I was a better parent to Andrew than I am to Alexa in the preschool stage of development. She had been having a "bit" of an emotional evening. In the old days, when Andrew would have that sort of night, we'd sit on the couch and read through a gigantic stack of books. I figured he needed calm, attention, and interaction. Unfortunately when Alexa has those types of evenings . . . she spends time alone in her room crying. There are 2 ways to look at that: she's learning to manage her own emotions which will help her later in life, or well heck- Andrew was an only child I had more time to do that sort of thing. Regardless, when I thought of that, I felt bad for Alexa and decided to try to do better about acknowledging that there may be a reason to her loud, emotional, fatiguing outburst; instead of just "dealing" with the outburst. (hey- I am a special ed teacher- it's ingrained in our heads that there's always a reason for a behavior- usually. Although sometimes . . . I'll be danged if I know what it is)
I've always wondered- how in the world did I get Alexa?! If there was ever a person in the world, less equipped to deal with all her emotions, I think it might be me. While I don't understand all of her feelings, I hope I am not belittling them. It's something I have worked on since . . . since she was infant. I try not to resent the quantity of emotions. I try not to resent the level of emotion that she displays. I try to ask myself before reacting- or ignoring- if I am being a jerk or if this is genuinely a situation that requires my involvement. When I do react I try to be very controlled and consistent, however I am human and I occasionally react poorly. Tonight- unfortunately was one of those nights.
I noticed on Thursday evening she was sounding a little stuffy. On Friday her nose was pretty runny and she sounded a little croaky. She slept in until almost 8am this morning, and then she sort of just laid around sucking her fingers. Unfortunately- she had a soccer game this morning. Honestly, if I wasn't one of the coaches- I would probably have let her stay home, but . . . I can't stay home and leave the team! On the way over, I told myself- if she just sits the entire game- I'm ok with that. She's 3. If I make this experience awful- she'll hate sports. So she sat for the first half- by her own choice. (I won't lie- she thought she might get up and play with her brother- but I told her- if you're sick- then you will sit down. Miraculously- she felt good enough to play the 2nd half). Then stuck around to watch her brother play baseball. She pretty much just sat and played with some toys. We went to the playground for about 10 minutes- but she left it gladly- to sit. However . . . it was almost 2:30 by the time we got home. There ain't no way she's taking a nap at 2:30 in the afternoon. I'll never get her to bed! So . . . I figured it would be tough- but I could get her to about 7pm. She was fine. (it helped that Doug and Andrew weren't around because I could give her all of my attention and she could eat whatever weirdo dinner she wanted- apples and goldfish). Everything was great, until it was time to wash her hair. Suddenly she didn't like anything! She didn't like her glowsticks (we use 5 in the bathtub on special nights- like when I am trying to get to have a bath without a saga), she didn't like her washcloth, she didn't like her hair being washed, she didn't like me putting her hair in the towel, she didn't like her favorite nightgown, her lotion, her underwear. The first few, "I don't likes . . ." I internally groaned. Lord give me the patience to get through this moment. Then I realized- she's tired. Then it sort of got funny. Then . . . it just got hilarious. Here this poor child is exhausted, and doesn't feel good, instead of laying on the couch and watching tv all day- like she may have liked to have done (cause isn't that what we want to do, when we don't feel good?), she had to play soccer and watch baseball, and sit in the hot and I am literally laughing so hard tears are pouring out of my eyes. What finally did me in, is she didn't like her favorite owl pillow anymore, because it has . . . Boy Owls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Well, I don't know if you know this or not, but . . . when you don't like anything, you really don't like your mother laughing her tail off at you either! I tried to recover myself, we decided to forego the story and just snuggle, but every time I'd get myself settled down . . . I'd think about her yelling, "And I don't like my owl pillow cause it has boy owlses on it!" and I'd lose it all over again. Finally I regained myself enough to get her calmed down and then I came in the living room and laughed all over again. Tired 3 year olds, can be the most frustrating people in the world, but then again, they can be the funniest!
Recently I realized that in some ways, I was a better parent to Andrew than I am to Alexa in the preschool stage of development. She had been having a "bit" of an emotional evening. In the old days, when Andrew would have that sort of night, we'd sit on the couch and read through a gigantic stack of books. I figured he needed calm, attention, and interaction. Unfortunately when Alexa has those types of evenings . . . she spends time alone in her room crying. There are 2 ways to look at that: she's learning to manage her own emotions which will help her later in life, or well heck- Andrew was an only child I had more time to do that sort of thing. Regardless, when I thought of that, I felt bad for Alexa and decided to try to do better about acknowledging that there may be a reason to her loud, emotional, fatiguing outburst; instead of just "dealing" with the outburst. (hey- I am a special ed teacher- it's ingrained in our heads that there's always a reason for a behavior- usually. Although sometimes . . . I'll be danged if I know what it is)
I've always wondered- how in the world did I get Alexa?! If there was ever a person in the world, less equipped to deal with all her emotions, I think it might be me. While I don't understand all of her feelings, I hope I am not belittling them. It's something I have worked on since . . . since she was infant. I try not to resent the quantity of emotions. I try not to resent the level of emotion that she displays. I try to ask myself before reacting- or ignoring- if I am being a jerk or if this is genuinely a situation that requires my involvement. When I do react I try to be very controlled and consistent, however I am human and I occasionally react poorly. Tonight- unfortunately was one of those nights.
I noticed on Thursday evening she was sounding a little stuffy. On Friday her nose was pretty runny and she sounded a little croaky. She slept in until almost 8am this morning, and then she sort of just laid around sucking her fingers. Unfortunately- she had a soccer game this morning. Honestly, if I wasn't one of the coaches- I would probably have let her stay home, but . . . I can't stay home and leave the team! On the way over, I told myself- if she just sits the entire game- I'm ok with that. She's 3. If I make this experience awful- she'll hate sports. So she sat for the first half- by her own choice. (I won't lie- she thought she might get up and play with her brother- but I told her- if you're sick- then you will sit down. Miraculously- she felt good enough to play the 2nd half). Then stuck around to watch her brother play baseball. She pretty much just sat and played with some toys. We went to the playground for about 10 minutes- but she left it gladly- to sit. However . . . it was almost 2:30 by the time we got home. There ain't no way she's taking a nap at 2:30 in the afternoon. I'll never get her to bed! So . . . I figured it would be tough- but I could get her to about 7pm. She was fine. (it helped that Doug and Andrew weren't around because I could give her all of my attention and she could eat whatever weirdo dinner she wanted- apples and goldfish). Everything was great, until it was time to wash her hair. Suddenly she didn't like anything! She didn't like her glowsticks (we use 5 in the bathtub on special nights- like when I am trying to get to have a bath without a saga), she didn't like her washcloth, she didn't like her hair being washed, she didn't like me putting her hair in the towel, she didn't like her favorite nightgown, her lotion, her underwear. The first few, "I don't likes . . ." I internally groaned. Lord give me the patience to get through this moment. Then I realized- she's tired. Then it sort of got funny. Then . . . it just got hilarious. Here this poor child is exhausted, and doesn't feel good, instead of laying on the couch and watching tv all day- like she may have liked to have done (cause isn't that what we want to do, when we don't feel good?), she had to play soccer and watch baseball, and sit in the hot and I am literally laughing so hard tears are pouring out of my eyes. What finally did me in, is she didn't like her favorite owl pillow anymore, because it has . . . Boy Owls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Well, I don't know if you know this or not, but . . . when you don't like anything, you really don't like your mother laughing her tail off at you either! I tried to recover myself, we decided to forego the story and just snuggle, but every time I'd get myself settled down . . . I'd think about her yelling, "And I don't like my owl pillow cause it has boy owlses on it!" and I'd lose it all over again. Finally I regained myself enough to get her calmed down and then I came in the living room and laughed all over again. Tired 3 year olds, can be the most frustrating people in the world, but then again, they can be the funniest!
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