i kicked her out
i had been fighting a cold the entire weekend. a long weekend at that. so it’s monday morning. no school. and we’re both sleeping in. (me more than her.) she rolls over and asks if she can go in the living room and watch something. i tell her that she needs to read a book. she whines. (i hate when she whines.) she asks again.
“please mom, can i watch something? i don’t want to read. it’s boring.” i tell her again to read a book. it’s good for her brain. her rebuttal : “i can watch brainchild. it’s good for my brain, and i can take notes.” finally i firmly refuse. she’s pissed. i don’t care. i get up to go to the bathroom, return to all my bedding on the floor. this lil nicca trippin!
“pick up my blankets bee.” she stares at me with those big brown eyes.
“NO!” this nicca REALLY trippin!
“ok, well you can’t live here. you either be obedient or you can leave.” again, she stares. this time with no words. i lift her from the bed, usher her to the doorway. she walks to the front door, in her pjs and socks, and i ask again… “do you want to be obedient?” she just stares. i open the door, she walks out. i close it. (for all those concerned that i put my baby outside in inclement weather, we live in a new apartment building where “outside” is a heated hallway with picture windows.)
i watch her through the peep hole. crying just a bit, thinking, and looking out the window. then she turns around, pauses for a second and begins down the hallway. i open the door.
“where are you going?”
“i’m going to knock on people’s doors to see if they’ll adopt me.”
“do you think you will be able to mess up their things and not have to fix them? do you think you will be able to be disobedient to them?”
she stands still. processing the question. then she puts her back on the wall and slides her body down. buries her face in her hands and shields them both from view with her knees. “i don’t know what to do.” she begins to cry again.
“bee, i love you. i want you to live with me, but you can’t if you’re going to be disrespectful. if you want to come back, you can, but you are going to have to make the bed.”
she lifts her face from their hiding place. her eyes just as big and brown as ever. “i want to live there, but i don’t want to make the bed.”
“well unfortunately, that’s not an option. so what do you want to do?”
again, she pauses. looking off down the brightly lit hallway, still seated in her crouched position she softly says to herself while slowly shaking her head, “why did i ever mess up the bed?” she rises and slowly walks toward the door. she passes me and commences to walk to the bedroom. i stop her.
“bee, let’s talk.”
i crouched down as to be eye to eye with her. she’s getting tall so in this position, she’s actually looking down at me. i detail my love for her, why it’s important that we respect each other, why obedience is non negotiable, and then i open the floor for her to share. she told me that she messed up the bed because she was angry, that she didn’t want to leave but also didn’t want to make the bed. we promised to be more mindful of each other’s feelings, be respectful to one another, and to talk things through. lastly, i made it clear that disobedience will not be tolerated. she agreed, hugged me, and headed to the bedroom.
was it extreme? perhaps. i kept eyes on her the whole time, and didn’t let her cry hysterically. (she’s me, so her pride probably wouldn’t have let her anyway.) the thing is, these little kids turn to big kids REAL FAST! if you’re not establishing hard boundaries early, you’re going to be in for a world of hurt. i will not tolerate disrespect or disobedience. it’s not up for discussion. we can talk about how you feel, we can consider options, but ultimately, i get the final say. that’s just the way it is.
as much as i am a “new age” parent, that doesn’t give whoopins, TRYS not to yell, let’s her feel her feelings, and wants her to express herself… she got me fucked up if she thinks she’s running something. i don’t want her to fear me, or think that i would ever turn my back to her, at the same time, she also has to understand that there are boundaries. i see so much of myself in her. i know how that independence can be dangerous if left to its own devices.
all and all, i’m trying to tailor (pun intended) my parenting style to who she is. i sure hope it works.
pray for us.