I recently wrote a poem.
That is a big statement from me, who has never in her life written a poem where I was reasonably satisfied with its ultimate clarity and content. Alas, I cannot put it up here as it has been entered in several competitions; but in the poem there is a moment where a daughter says to her mother in no uncertain terms: GO AWAY.
Those words come out of my daughter’s mouth all too often these days. As do these:
I WANT YOU/ NO, I DON’T WANT YOU.
That is the coin I toss whenever we speak, it seems. From her toileting dramas (no, it hasn’t really improved) to making a sandwich to putting on her own jewelry, I generally get the brush off.
Then, two seconds later, she becomes frustrated when HANG ON! maybe her abilities to do certain things are not as finessed as she reckoned, and then the whingeing begins. As do the entreaties (Muuummmm. I’m TOO TIRED to hang up my dresses now).
It’s then when she looks at my from under those long lashes of hers and I can tell I am getting appraised; that for all my loving and general tending to her needs that she knows, deep down, that one day she will surpass this responsibility-ridden job of mine called parenting. One day she will be an adult, but now she sometimes acts as if she can barely be bothered to tolerate the days between.
Already, too often, we cramp her style and she would rather go play at friend’s houses because there she is freed from the Eyes of Justice (us) which flash, like our alarm sensors, from room to room as she passes through the day. Not that she is terribly naughty – I should stress this – but at almost four years of age she has discovered her ability to flex and shroud her moods as she sees fit. And only as she sees fit, some days.
Riley these days wanders around the house singing, “Sweet about me. Nothing’s sweet about me. Yeee-aah. Sweeetttttttttt abouuuuuuut me,” doing a cuter version of the song Gabriella Cilmi only wishes she could.
[I really should tape it. I’m not kidding, it’s adorable. For ‘nothing’ he says ’nuffin’. Awww…]
Some days there’s nothing ‘sweet’ about Keira either.
But that’s totally okay, ’cause, you know?
Cute is overrated.
