Friday, July 28, 2017She's about to Get Her Knickers in a Knot
Back in January, one of two things happened:
- I hit my head and momentarily lost all common sense.
- The desire to see my kid do something that makes her happy overtook my desire to be sane.
Whatever the case may be, I signed Alexis up for competitive cheer.
I'll wait a minute while you recover from the shock. I KNOW. It doesn't make any sense.
But! In my defense, I did sign her up for a different sort of competitive cheer. It's not ALL OF THE MONEY and ALL OF THE TIME. It's like competitive cheer lite, I suppose. There are a bunch of valuable life lessons that have come out of it which maybe I'll eventually write, but basically two hours per week and three competitions isn't the nightmare that it could be.
Except, uh, well ... I kinda sorta am escorting Alexis to Las Vegas for a competition this weekend. I fully realize that's 143597 kinds of insane. All of it. It's completely insane. "Competitive cheer lite" shouldn't require hotels and flights and all of that.
But! I'm all in. I'm all in because, you guys, ALEXIS IN VEGAS. I call her "Grandma" for a reason.
We've been in Vegas for like an hour so far, which is just long enough to get to the hotel and grab a snack. As Alexis plopped herself down on the couch, I said, "There is exactly one time in your life that I'm going to tell you that it's okay to eat Cheetos in bed and this is it."
Alexis looked at me.
She looked at the bed.
She looked back at me. WITH HORROR.
"Mom, the comforter is white! I can't eat Cheetos in a bed with a white comforter!"
Grandma Alexis is going to be SO entertaining when she beholds the full glory of Vegas.
Throwing Up Brick Walls
We really only have one rule around here, and that is a fundamental requirement to practice kindness. Always. No matter what. And HOOBOY is Mila having trouble with that rule.
The kid has a heck of a mean streak.
The challenge, of course, is that I don't know how to teach her that saying she doesn't like me is no bueno. Don't do that. Bad idea, kid. She says even worse stuff, but somehow that's the one that cuts me to the core. I don't neeeeeeed my three year-old to like me, but I also don't need her to declare that she doesn't. Responding by saying her words make me sad or aren't nice or any of the usual tactics doesn't really work with her.
I've started a new thing instead.
Instead of trying to reason with the most unreasonable human I know (because three!), I've started to completely ignore it and instead turn her focus to something that makes her happy. Who knows if it will do any good, but it's definitely less frustrating for me. Instead of trying to make a point, I'm rediscovering the things that make Mila an awesome little person.
Her love for gardening, for example.
Yesterday when Mila went on her Mean Streak, we were moments from pulling into our driveway. I silent treatmented the whole thing until we were parked, and then opened her door and said, "If you're ready to use nice words, we can go look for blueberries."
She snapped into her happy version and eagerly ran for the first blueberry bush. After picking six little friends, we checked the other blueberry bushes. More friends! Then we picked a bell pepper, plucked a few cherry tomatoes, and found ourselves a few green beans.
And MAN was Mila glowing. There's magic to be found in watching someone discover that they can grow their own food. So much magic. So much happy.
And, weird thing, she uses her nice words when she's doing things she wants to do.
It may not be the "right" answer to dealing with a smart-mouthed preschooler, but it's the best I've got for the moment. And, as an added bonus, it makes for one person who I can force to be nice. I may not be able to stop all of the unnecessary meanness in the world, but I can throw brick walls up around the unnecessary meanness in my little world.
