I’m a very focused person. If a task has begun, I usually have an obsessive need to finish it. Without disruption. You can see how well that dovetails with motherhood.
I battle to keep the crew orderly and content so I can finish my business. I lose the battle 97% of the time. Here is the part where I’m supposed to say I’m embracing it because I’m growing as a person. I truly have gotten better though. The struggle stays behind my teeth more these days than it used to. Small victories.
Being intensely focused on the task at hand, and being a tightly wound person, I am jumpy. Like super jumpy. My husband whistles when he walks into the room. I scream less now. Good man.
The boy child is one year old and I always know he is coming. Partly because he intermittently screams like a pterodactyl but mainly because, as he bumps into each door frame in the house, it makes noise. He is a toddler in every sense of the word. He is currently sporting a busted lip from that time he and the piggy bank zoomed into a kitchen wall. So much blood comes out of head wounds.
The girl child, however, is part ninja. I'm counting on her attending college for free on some sort of ninja scholarship. She's that good. My huge issue: she doesn't tell you she's there. She just watches you. Picture the twins at the end of the hallway on the shining. Yep, that's it.
I’ve told her it freaks me out. She isn’t trying to be weird though. She’s a totally normal kid but all the stealth moves are taking years off my life.
Another thing you need to know about me is that I have sensory issues. Noise hurts sometimes. Soft touch (like your arm hair brushing my arm hair) sends me through the roof. It's very uncomfortable. Most people have to teach their kids to touch gently.
I need you to press hard on Mommy so I don’t lose my mind. But you had better be gentle with everyone else.
Yeah. That makes zero sense to kids.
Last night the business hit the fan. I thought she was in bed. Mainly because she was. I was relaxing at the end of a whole entire day of being a mom. Sometimes I want to give myself a medal for finishing another day but I’m just too tired to do it.
The girl child sidles up and, ever so gently, kisses me on my arm. So sweet. Two huge problems though: I’m being kissed when I thought I was alone and she’s being way too soft about it. I screamed. She screamed. Then there was more crying and less relaxing.
When we caught our breath, we brainstormed possible ways to ensure that never happened again as-long-as-we-both-shall-live. She can’t whistle like her Daddy so we decided she could just announce her arrival into the room instead.
Ok. Goodnight sweet girl. Get a good sleep. See you in the morning.
We should have clearly defined what “announce your arrival into a room” would look like. Our definitions varied widely. At 7:02 AM she busted into the kitchen with an ungodly screech on a purple recorder given to her by the uncle who only gives loud toys. I think he is trying to get back at me for his childhood. I almost died right there holding my "world's okayest mom" coffee mug.
While still one of the worst experiences of my life, it beats the heck out of freaky ninja kisses. Good job girl.