Friday, November 22, 2013

Three Little Words

Dear Ian,

Well, at four years and one month old, it has happened.  You uttered the three words that I knew, one day, would be coming.  Expecting them and being prepared for them are two distinctly different things, and I will be honest and say that even though I knew it would one day happen, nothing is like the kick-in-the-gut sensation of hearing you say it.

"I hate you."

I expected it at maybe seven years old.  I clung to the hope that I would never hear it; maybe you'd just whisper it in your room in your teenage years.  I could remain blissfully unaware, but you'd have your little vent-fest.  Nope.  You are the tender age of 49 months old, and it has officially happened.  

What would spawn such a sentence?  Well, in this particular instance, it was the directive to go upstairs and get your clothes.  World rocking, I know.  You refused and whined and had a hissy fit, so I firmly announced that afternoon TV privileges were hereby revoked, and I sent you to your
 room for both your clothes and some time-out.  As you stomped up the stairs, you looked over your shoulder and fired the big guns.  

On the outside, I acted as if I had no reaction.  I simply replied, "I'm sure you do.  But I'm the mommy, and my directions are to be followed."  On the inside I wanted to just lose my mind.  What?!  You hate me?!  I beg your pardon.  I am Mommy.  I loved you while you turned my body into your own little parasitic host world.  I have spent hours thinking of fun things for us to do.  I've spent hours playing trains, reading books, wiping your behind and generally being your biggest cheerleader for the past four-plus years.  How in the world could you hate me?!  

Yes, yes.  I know.  It's your job to hate me.  And it's my job to occasionally make you hate me.  I am Mommy.  Maker of rules, taker of privileges.  It is my sworn duty to make sure you grow up to be a kind, productive, tolerable member of society.  But lately you've been acting like everything but.  The child who could say please and thank you before he was two is now a demanding, negotiating whine-ball.  Are you over-indulged?  Is it too much TV?  Is it inconsistency on my part?  I don't think so, but maybe there could be some improvement work done here.  Is it just you being four?  Probably.  Most definitely. 

So, on one hand, maybe your little announcement was proof positive that I am doing my job.  But man, it officially sucks.  I honestly am thinking about early retirement from this Mommy-ing thing.  I cant let you see it, but hearing those words really rocked me.  And the fact that it happened before 7am was just salt in an already hacked open wound.  There must have been a whole lotta rage in your little body for you to declare that you hate me when we had been in each other's presence for exactly 14 minutes.  

You did serve your time in your room, and you did put your clothes on your body, so I did win a little battle in our Mommy-Ian War of Wills this morning.  But you also leveled a blow that will have me thinking about it all day, even if I cant show it.  Hopefully it will be one of those "the first time is always the worst" sort of things, because I'm sure this wont be the last time I hear it.  If I'm doing my job correctly and all.  

But man, what a way to start a morning.

I love you anyway,

*Note:  Daddy is currently out of town for work, so he was able to avoid all of this drama.  I am insanely jealous of his safe distance from the blast zone. 

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