Acting Out

Lately, three year old Daughter has entered her rebellious streak, testing each one of my elementary parenting skills. It started a couple months ago, shortly after we began potty training. That was then a bust, even with my most passionate sales pitch. “Okay, honey, let’s go on the princess potty, then you can put a princess sticker on your pretty pink potty chart. If you go peepee all day, you’ll get a jelly bean after dinner!” Think I might have confused her with too many incentives? Regardless, it simply didn’t take.

Around this time, she started acting out. For awhile, I succumbed to her willfulness, in denial that I needed to step up to the plate and rein in her behavior before it got out of hand . Well, she played me. “No, you may not have a popsicle for breakfast,” I calmly insisted. I went to check email, she opened the massive low freezer door, dug one out, and had downed it by the time I returned. The torn, orange stained white wrapper was all that remained. (She’s not yet canny enough to throw away the evidence.)

“Sophie! You may NOT have popsicles for breakfast!” I stated with firm conviction, this time. And so would go our day with a series of:

“NO!”

“Stop hitting your brother!”

“You may not have candy for lunch!”

“No scratching!”

“You may not watch another show!”

“Please don’t hit your brother!”

“Give that to me now!”

“Time out!”

“Time out!”

“Time out!”

…all strung together until I ran out of energy and she continued to run circles around the house.

And then I got to thinking (usually a good thing for us moms, when mommy brain lifts for a brief moment). I’d had a babysitter start coming in the afternoons around the time she started acting out. She had had less time with me for several weeks. I’d been busy, putting more of my attention into my stuff and less into her.

So last week, one morning when Brother was at preschool, Daughter and I had a rare morningwhen errands didn’t have to be run and a play date wasn’t scheduled. I took her down to the local beach for a mommy and me morning. It was the first really warm spring day and we arrived early to the playground. No one else was there and we climbed ladders, ran across bridges, and played hide and seek, discovering one another in quiet dark spaces under slides and platforms.

Then we walked down to the beach, took our shoes off, and curled toes in the sand. We held hands, strolling towards the breaker. For once, she wasn’t pulling me and I wasn’t pulling her. We demanded nothing of each other. At times, she’d let go and run down to the waves to dip her toe in the water. She’d bend over and study a shell, picking it up for a closer inspection. Then return to me, putting her sweet, soft hand in mine.

And I realize this is what it will be like for us. We’ll constantly demand things of one another, she’ll act out, I’ll reprimand. We’ll come together and she’ll go off to take risks, studying the world to satisfy her own unique curiosity. And then hopefully return. And join hands with mine.

The babysitter went on vacation and Daughter and I have shared more quiet moments together. She didn’t sneak a popsicle from the fridge yesterday. That’s progress. She stomped her foot and demanded pudding. But I didn’t give in. I just sat with her on my lap on the porch while she ate her cereal bar. Then smiled when she finished and slowly curled up into me.

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