Nothing could have prepared me for having a little girl.
Two laid-back boys came first – happy, genial boys who inherited their fathers’ personalities and skipped right over the worst of mine. Although parenting was by no stretch of the imagination a breeze for me, it didn’t seem overly taxing. Neither Justin nor Ryan went through the Terrible Twos, and I didn’t even stop to think about it.
Little did I know what God had in store for me.
Alyssa has a shirt with the saying “I’m Grandma’s Payback.” It’s perfect. She is Cranky McFussypants on the best of days. At two she’s a force of nature, never content with the status quo. She’s as stubborn as two pack mules, and bossy as they come. And Stephen says she’s just like me…
This little girl will hold my gaze steadily as she climbs to standing on her booster chair, smiling blithely all the while. Her standard retort when I ask her to do something is, “No I not!“ The Terrible Twos came upon us at 18 months, and I fear they will be a long time passing.
She’s all Princess. For example, we have Princess Kisses. I will ask her for a kiss on the cheek, and sometimes she’ll just offer me her own cheek in response. We end up pressing our cheeks together – two princesses.
Princess Alyssa
When Ryan first got his “big boy” bed, he would regularly sneak out at night and sit at the top of the stairs, looking down at us. Alyssa’s foray into a “big girl” bed was nothing short of dramatic. Instead of sneaking out quietly, she would barrel into Ryan’s room at all hours of the night, flipping on his lights and chanting, “Wake up Ryan! Wake up Ryan! Wake up Ryan!” Ryan would wait for us to come snatch her up and put her back to bed with a stern warning.
This is not to say we don’t discipline her. She’s a regular visitor of the Time-Out Corner, spending her two minutes there either wailing dramatically or in resigned silence, staring at her feet and waiting for her release. One day when she was being incorrigible I spanked her. Tears welled up in her eyes and she said, “Mommy, don’t hit.” I immediately felt contrite, frustrated, amazed and exasperated.
I am mothering myself.
One Sunday in December, I was sitting downstairs while the kids were taking a nap when I heard noises from their bedrooms. I crept up to see who was out of bed (again). Instead of finding a kid (or two) running around, I was amazed to hear singing coming from Alyssa’s room. She was singing, “Happy Birthday to … Santa. Happy Birthday to … Daddy. Happy Birthday to … Wyan.” She would pause before she named each person, as if deciding who’s turn it was to receive her good wishes. When Stephen and I snuck in her room to greet her, she was all smiles – no grumpy face in sight. My daughter was happy. It’s moments like these that make everything else worthwhile.
But as my sister mused recently as we stood in her kitchen watching the kids play, “Mmm… You’re going to have your hands full with that one.”