I saw a movie today, and it got me thinking. Well, the movie as such is nothing great to write about - but I took something away from it.
Driti is a great kid - wonderful - just like Calvin. Yeah, you get the drift. Sometimes you just can't stop laughing at her antics, wonder at her thought process, process your own understanding - to see if you need to reassess the basics - and then sometimes, being on the receiving end, you just want to pull your hair apart and seek asylum in some place distant - like Switzerland, Italy or Machu Picchu. And then you check your budget and you think you'd much rather go to a place closer and decide any place without kids could be a haven.
Right now,she's screaming her lungs out because her lego blocks won't stand and she's banging the bathroom door when I'm just about to sit down to write something. (Ok, too much information - but I still have a point). I get out, tell her that she needs to make the base strong. Her Dad is finally home - so I entrust the responsibility of the stronger base to the Engineer Dad to return to the post I originally intended to write about.
So, my little Calvin - ok, to preserve her identity, I'll refer to her as Driti. She makes every moment dramatic. Every day is a day filled with surprises - loud noise, screaming fits and endless laughter.
Driti hates sleeping. She feels its a waste of time and we're taking away precious play and prank time. If you ask her to sit quietly without talking in the bus, offering her that coveted chocolate - you're sapping all her energy out. She hates sitting on the potty for Gods' sake - so the bus is a stretch. But I still offer her a carrot (not the real one - she says she wants to stay weak, and doesn't need vegetables. Another story, for a later time) for pretending to be a well behaved child. Not her natural personality - the quite kid - but she'll do it. And I battle between the guilty feeling of not letting her be herself and a half hour of a boring bus ride. I choose the half hour of a well behaved kid - so I don't have to run around in the bus, stroller in one hand, her bag in the other, and my bag on my back. The moment the bus stops and we get down, she makes me run. She makes me run behind her at the playground - because - well she likes running. She'll make a mess (and she'll admit she's making a mess) - because- she likes making a mess. She breaks stuff - because she wants to see what's inside. She wants electronic stuff, because grown ups use it.The moment I look at her sternly, she'll stick her tongue out making that annoying face that I decide to ground her. I'll go ahead and send her to her room and she'll yell and scream and I'll get her out after she counts to a 100. She'll get the point for the day, and I'll cross my fingers and pray that the neighbors don't complain. (2 complaints in 2 months is too much).
And then again, when she sleeps - suddenly everything is so quiet. Everything is so silent - I can hear myself breathing. It's so... so.... unnatural. I just don't like it anymore. I feel like waking her up and listening to her talk, I miss her asking all those questions they're mostly just one question, followed by a zillion 'whys'. But I still miss them.
In the morning, when she wakes up, comes running to me, hugs me and says - "Mamma, you know - I want to tell you a secret", I comply and lend her my ear. She whispers " I love you". That's when I decide, although I have a long tiring day ahead - the next morning is worth waiting for, and at midday - I wait for her to fall asleep. Guess that's the circle of parenthood.
