Gertie

Here is my little Oompa Loompa. You all missed a good show!





















This is Gertie's project for the morning. Please don't zoom in,
or you may see the crumbs on my kitchen floor, but I hope you notice the curvy line she built using the cups, and the way she put lids on the cups.


On the spur of the moment I decided to take the kids to see my Mom yesterday. She had invited us on Friday, but I just couldn't decide if I wanted to drive up there on my Saturday or not. Sometimes I don't have so much energy for the big undertaking. But Ethan has been asking a lot about when he can see his cousin Hunter again. And I miss my Mama too, so we went. We arrived just before noon, and my brother-in-law agreed to let me drop my son off at his house to play with Hunter and Tate while the girls went on to Grandma's house. We went for lunch at this place whose name sounded like Rossi's or something like that. It looked good. It looked Italian. Pasta. Yum! Well, it was good. The service wasn't as great, and the portions were small. Very small. We decided to pick up a malt and fries for dessert at Snuffy's Malt Shop next door. Those were yummy.

It has occurred to me since I've walked out of there that maybe those smaller portions are more appropriate for a healthy (meaning, healthy, not large) appetite. Maybe if all restaurants joined into this small portion campaign, we'd be
a skinnier nation. (Or maybe we'd just all go to Snuffy's for
a malt afterwards.)

It was a fun afternoon with my Mom. It makes me so happy to watch her play with Gertie. Gertie really enjoys her.

But that brings me to what I really want to talk about today. It is this daughter of mine. The little one. I am so crazy about her, really. And it is striking me now that I feel like I need to tell you all how much I really like her before I tell you how difficult she is sometimes. Like I can't discuss how she just isn't likable sometimes. It's disloyal. She's mine. Anyway, here goes:

We got in the van yesterday morning and Gertie fell asleep. She was happy until she did. She got a nap of a little over an hour, probably, and I thought, Oh. This makes the drive stress-free and she'll be well rested for the afternoon. And she was. She was sweet when we dropped Ethan off. She was excited to see her cousin Tate. She had a big smile for him and Uncle Chad teased her a bit. She liked it. And then
we got into the car and drove over to Grandma's. We pulled up and she said, "Where is my Grandma?" Her eyes lit up when she saw my mom. She volunteered how she loved her several times. She was truly happy to see her. That warmed my heart. I loved that.

And then we get to the restaurant. On a dime her personality changed, which it often does. Now she's saying, "Don't do that," and glaring and just generally behaving in a way that isn't likable. It lasts a while and embarrasses me. I feel like I ought to be able to mother-control her out of treating people poorly, even though it is often me that she's being rude to.

And then we jump ahead to my mom's house. Now she is sweet and giggly and playful. Still bossy, but in a cuter and less harmless way.

I know she is two, so maybe it's normal, but it doesn't feel normal to me. She often treats people rudely, including her big brother and sister, when they're trying to be nice to her and love her up. She treats other adults that I know rudely as they try to help her with her coat or cup or shoe. She doesn't understand or seem to care about being polite. She doesn't care about hurting anyone's feelings.

Okay. As I'm writing that I'm thinking, "Yes. That sounds like a toddler." But it really feels like more to me. It feels like that is her personality. Moody. And moody is not likable. How can I change moody? Can I change moody? It doesn't feel like I can. I have started praying for her little spirit and that I will be able to help walk her through those feelings and change her perspective. Maybe this will be a looooong prayer, and someday, when she's in college, I'll think, "We did okay."

I do remember Ethan being very hard. Different hard. But those were hard years in some ways as well. I mean the toddler years. People didn't like him all that much either, and there was good reason. He cried and didn't like other people so much. I have to say that now he is pleasant and polite (in public) and is thoughtful of others and very likable. (This is his mother talking.) John said we finally broke him. And it did feel like that. That is how I remember those years. Do I have another tough one? Do we all have tough ones and it just feels like it's just me?