My #3 child is in a spell right now. I don’t really know what else to call it.
#4 was in a spell this past fall and I think, for the most part, he is through it. And just last night, before falling asleep, Eli and I discussed #2’s spell from a few years ago. Whew – glad to be out of that one! I guess #1 is next in line for a spell. She is a preteen and I’m not ready for teenage spells.
Sweet Jesus, help me.
Spells are hard. They basically consist of obnoxious whining, fits of rage, and loud I-hope-the-neighbors-didn’t-hear-that-screaming-through-the-open-window tantrums. And that’s just parent behavior. Don’t get me started on the behavior of the child who is actually going through the spell. After a decade of parenting I’m finally realizing that spells are just a child’s horrid way of telling us parents that they’re growing and needy and they don’t really know how else to communicate it.
I love my Sweet Brown. She is my freckled doll baby who giggles when we go through car washes and flits around the yard singing made-up songs. She casts an enchantment on everyone she meets. I have no doubt she could woo the Devil into doing her bidding. But I can also testify that when her switch is flipped, she could send the Devil running for the hills with her whining and complaining. When she doesn’t get her way, or doesn’t want to do something you ask of her, or she gets her feelings hurt, or for some inexplicable reason her panties are in a bunch, then you better go ahead and claw your ears right off because you will never hear the end of it. It is the most maddening part of my daily routine right now. Her spells fill the whole house with unsettled tension.
Sweet Jesus, help her.
I’m haunted right now by this quote I found on The Facebook last week. It makes me wonder if my Sweet Brown is getting all the love she needs. Being #3 can be a tough gig. She has two older siblings who are active with school and friends. Then she has The Baby of the Family to contend with. That’s some steep competition.
I fear she gets pushed aside and overlooked too often. I certainly don’t want that for her and I try my hardest to give her the love and time she seems to need. But there is still no change in her behavior.
The other day I was sitting in the nose bleed section of the bleachers while Sweet Brown and her brother were in swim lessons. She was waiting her turn on the side of the pool in her little chartreuse swimsuit, with her wet, silky brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, and her orange goggles on her head. At that very moment I was moved by her smallness. From a distance she looked so tender and petite sitting on the edge of the pool.
When Sweet Brown is in one of her spells at home her presence is loud and feels so large in my face. She follows me through the house and I can’t seem to escape the magnitude of her whining and whimpering. It’s such a consuming noise. It’s almost like I become nearsighted. I am blind to everything but her unlovely sniveling. I’m blind to the bigger picture, her bigger picture. But when I sat in the bleachers that night and watched her swim I was reminded of her wholeness, not just this piece of her. I was reminded of her dainty five year old soul-ness.
I think sometimes I suffer from mother myopia. I’m hyper-focused on the unlovely behaviors right before my face and can’t seem to focus on the bigger picture. Sometimes I miss out on the wonderfulness of my Sweet Brown because all I can see and hear and focus on is her whining, crying, and complaining. I’m starting to realize perhaps she isn’t the only one who needs to change. I need to change. I need my vision corrected and restored. I need to refocus on the reality that her soul is just a babe and she is still growing.
It’s hard for me to realize and accept this perspective in the moments when she is charging down her path of whining and crying. Part of me doesn’t want her to think this is how she gets what she wants and needs. Someday she will have to learn to communicate her wants and desires using words rather than sour behavior.
But I guess we’re both a work in progress. We’re both going through a spell. As the adult, I need to work through my spell, my motherhood myopia, and come out on the other side more compassionate and patient so I can help Sweet Brown through her spell.
Sweet Jesus, help us.
The Consecrated Bird 