Willpower and Exorcism

Do you ever experience the depth of your child's irrationality, rage, and will and think, "I don't remember signing up for this?". Last night was one of Gillian's biggest doozy of a fit ever. And it was over a pen. 60 minutes of blood curdling screaming, kicking, flailing, hyperventilating glory because I wouldn't let her mark up her piano lesson book. (She tricked me by asking for it so she could "do [her] homework" which was writing a few quarter notes, but really wanted to draw on every page "to show the teacher [I] did my homework"). She was precious and happy when she walked in the door at dinner time from the lesson, and all excited to show me what she learned at her first piano lesson ever. By all accounts, she did great, and absolutely loved it (she asked, "can I go to piano class every day?") but I think the day was a little overstimulating for her.

Sometimes parenting feels like detective work. Or endurance marathoning. Or both. What was true underlying stress that the emotional pen trigger let loose? Surely not taking a pen away. I carried her, kicking and screaming for the pen, to her room (I had warned her that if she didn't calm down we were going to bed instead of practicing). In the room, I asked her to brush her teeth so we could read. Emphatic denial and more "I WANT THE PENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN" (hyperventilate, hyperventilate, hyperventilate) "P-P-P-EEEEENNNNNNN...NNNNN....NNNN....NNNN!!!!!!!!!!!" to which I carried her to the bathroom and brushed her teeth for her. The I turned off the light, (inadvertantly turning the focus to the books we weren't going to read because she didn't brush her teeth like I asked her to). Now it was "BB...B...BBBBBBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOKKKKKKKKKKSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!! Well, no books. Still kicking and screaming. So I picked her up (while she was trying to hit me and kick me) and put her in my lap and rocked her and shhhh'd her and told her it was OK. This went on for about 35 minutes. Finally she calmed down-demons gone, sweet, sad girl in their place. I asked her what was wrong. She said she wanted the pen and to read books. I told her she has to do what I ask, or she loses privileges. I asked her if anything happened at school. She said no. I asked if anything made her sad and she said "I don't like being at aftercare by myself" and I said "what do you mean by yourself?" and she told me she was the very last child to be picked up today, and it was by her teacher instead of Sean or I (insert my heart breaking into approximately 952 pieces at how abandoned she felt). Her piano lesson is late because the music teacher is booked until 5:40, but we decided it was better to try music with someone she knows that she already has music class with and on an instrument that has no requirement of posture to have success. You press a key, it makes a sound that is in tune. Immediate gratification. So, that is the day Sean can go to the downtown shop for work, and he picked G up at 6:10 on his way home. I had dinner waiting when they got home. But she has to go to aftercare until then, which I didn't think would be bad since she has talked about it wistfully before (apparently quite a few kids in her class go to aftercare during the week). But she said "no one played with me" and that she was the last kid left of all of them-and there are quite a few of them (4 teachers to watch them all). This morning Sean asked her about this and she said some kids played with her, but not "right before piano class". So the truth is somewhere between "I felt horribly out of place" and "I had a fabulous time". Obviously, she felt awkward in the new situation, so we talked about how maybe when you're the new kid, it takes a while to meet new friends, just like at camp last summer when she didn't know anyone. Enter Mama the Shrink. Then we snuggled, said prayers, and she was asleep within 2 minutes. Luckily Addie was not bothered by any of it, and slept right on through the Sleepocolypse.

In these instances, you have to have the patience and calm of a leaf, and I reached deep last night. My conclusion was that Gillian didn't do great with a change of routine, which reminds me of how her father does when there is a change of routine. She held it together until she was in the safety of my sphere, when she could completely melt down and still be loved in spite of herself. Now she knows what to expect and we'll see if next week is better. When I asked if after care was worth waiting for her music lesson, she was very clear that it was. I am thrilled that she seems to like learning an instrument.

It's like every other argument/emotional meltdown you ever have with anyone-10% is about the issue at hand, and 90% is about some other baggage that is turning your switch. It is some serious effort to start trying to recognize what those "leftovers" are, but learning them in others is like learning to navigate a landmine. It is a necessity.