My oldest turns 7 tomorrow. She starts 1st grade next week and then goes off to college...yeah I know it's not that fast but I feel the need to hold forth about the oddly disconcerting feeling that I am losing my "I've got this" style of parenting daughter that heretofore made them a joy to be around and people wanted to spend time with them.
They have so much attitude. just at the point where they are able to grasp multiple instructions and actually be helpful around the house, they also lose the ability to hear me speak. It like I'm speaking at dog whistle decibels and they are able to ignore me in ways that are both creative and insanely maddening.
Pumpkin she has apparently lost the desire to wear regular clothes, at 7. I could understand this at 3 or 4 but seriously, how many times do I need to tell one short person to go put something on to cover her ass when company is on the way over. She will wear the same pajamas for 3 days but ask her to find a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and it's lie you've just asked her to search for the holy grail with no camel or water. I have no idea how she makes her spine do that creepy slumping thing, but something must be broken in there for her shoulders to be that close to the ground and yet she still manages to remain upright.
She glares at me when I tell her to do things. Not hard things, any things...all the things. GLARES AT ME, like I've just told her she can never eat another cookie. Hate filled eyes of death, from a 7 year old. I'm not a violent person but this particular behavior makes me want to knock my eldest child into the middle of next week and then kick her ass on Thursday.
I put myself in time out, and look at baby pictures of her to remember the times when she wasn't an anxiety producing troll who seems to live to make me pull my hair out.
Sunshine has her own issues. She wants to help me and is very sweet to me still, but she also doesn't want to help in the ways I actually need help. She wants to cook on the stove and slice apples. I need her to pick up the messes she makes and help me with her brother's toys that are all over the floor because I can't bend over; thanks to my pinched and angry sciatic nerve. When she gets frustrated she whines and cries, like sobbing crying over not being able to find the open package of hot dogs because she wants to eat one.
Waiting is apparently super hard for her and we have at least 4 different "how many days" countdowns going on right now. One till the first day of school, on till the baby comes, Christmas-of course and one to her 6th birthday. She turned 5 in April, I don't see how that number of days even registers with someone who can't consistently count higher than 50.
She also has this seriously obnoxious habit of asking for things and after being told no she makes this, "aaaaawwwwww" sigh/moan/complain/almost cry noise that is the mommy equivalent of nails on the chalk board. I almost had a mental breakdown the other day because at 9:30 am when I told her she couldn't have a ring pop for breakfast she made the noise. I don't remember what happened for the next few minutes, I've sort of blocked them out. She ended up in her room for the better part of the morning, cleaning.
Because, I've decided that's better than spanking.
I don't feel guilty and the house is cleaner. Win-Win.
At this rate, with the snotty-ness being doled out by my daughters, no one is going to want to be around them, but I am going to have the cleanest house on the block.
"Oh you don't like being told to go to bed, that's fine, if you're awake feel free to sort the recycling, empty the dishwasher and straighten the den, I'm going to watch Ink Masters and eat ice cream."