I HATE YOU!

So, my 3 ½ year-old daughter has a new phrase. It’s not long or complicated, nope, it’s just three simple, painful words, almost always directed at me… I HATE YOU! She’s been throwing them at me a lot lately, and I must admit that they sting quite a bit. For example, on Christmas Eve, my Mom and I took my kids to the park.  My 6–year-old son decided that he wanted to walk around the track, so we all followed. My son clearly wanted to be the leader on this particular journey, so he became restless when his little sister attempted to take his place. He ordered her back, but she persisted forward, until she finally changed her course. She decided that she would walk in the opposite direction; this way she could lead her own trek. Of course, she wanted this to be a solo journey, so when I turned to follow her the rant began.  Despite the fact that her anger was actually towards her brother, I got to hear this…

“I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!”

She likes to keep things interesting, so she mixed up the tirade with a few, “I DON’T NEED YOU’S”, “GO AWAY”, “YOU WALK THAT WAY”, “I DON’T WANT YOU”, and then, a couple more,” I HATE YOU’S”, just for good measure.

Now I should mention, that these words are screamed with a venom that could kill you on the spot. And they are almost always accompanied by an ear-piercing, gut-wrenching, shriek, just in case you didn’t get the point.

I had a little reprieve on Christmas Day; thankfully Santa’s generosity and my home-made cinnamon buns cooled the fieriness in my daughter’s temperament for a few hours. However, the inferno blazed that much hotter the next day.  This time, the wrath was ignited by the snow. The weather predictions indicated that a big storm was coming, so my husband and I prepared for the pending storm by getting snow saucers for the kids. Sledding, snowballs, fun, right?

Well, I helped them get into their snow gear, which is no small feat, just think of the little brother in “A Christmas Story”. Anyway, after what seemed like hours to get them properly dressed, we finally made our way outside.  Within about 3 ½ minutes, literally, my daughter was tearing off her mittens, saying that her hands were too wet and cold. I run inside to find a dry pair, but before I can get back out the door, I see my sister carrying in my screaming child.

She’s screaming, because her hands are cold, but she refuses to let me help. She won’t let me hold them or wrap them in a warm washcloth. And I won’t even mention her reaction to the suggestion of a warm bath or some hot cocoa! Instead, she begins to meltdown, and once again, the “I HATE YOU’S” begin. This outburst includes about 12-15 “I HATE YOU’S” in a row, along with a few of her signature screeches. So, up to her room we went!

These are the parts of parenting that people without children simply do not understand. You can’t imagine how helpless and confusing it feels to have a tiny child lose control in your presence. The same tiny child that snuggles up to you in bed, hangs on you when scared, showers you with kisses, and tells you how much they love you. How can this possibly be the same kid? But it is the same kid, and as a parent, you have the rare opportunity to get an up-close and personal view of this complicated creature.  

So what does one do in a situation like this? There are many options, some clearly better than others. What I did, was stand there. I stood there and endured the venomous string of words being hurled my way. I stood there until I felt my heart quicken, my jaw tighten, and my eyes burn with the threat of tears. I stood there until my ears and heart had had enough. Then I bit my tongue, took a deep breath, and said… “Well, I love you.”

Then I walked out of the room and told her that I didn’t really want to be around her right now, so she should spend some time by herself until she was calm again. Needless to say, she was up there for a while.

Before having kids, I saw myself as easy-going, fun-loving, and kind. Since having kids, my perspective has evolved a bit. On my worst days, I look in the mirror and see a crazed, wild banshee. On my better days, I see a woman who loves her kids from the deepest part of her soul and who carries the patience of a saint.

Parenting is truly the greatest practice in patience, self-reflection, and love. Many people fancy themselves as enlightened beings that have transcended all forms of ego. If you find yourself in this category, I challenge you to go head to head with a spirited toddler. You will quickly learn how far you actually are on the path to enlightenment.