You know, Lauca can be so mature and loving and brave and charming that sometimes I feel bad about describing her as ‘highly strung’. Even so, it is a term I use out of delicate politeness because ‘highly strung’ really does not cover it. When we’re in the thick of it, ’emotional basketcase’ might be more accurate – flailing, self-pitying, catastrophising, despairing, sobbing, angst-ing, complaining, hating, arguing, irrational-ising, blaming, and generally emotional-rollercoasting. And honestly, this kind of mood of hers can go on for hours without pause. It is quite something to endure. Cormac, who is only a year old blinks calmly through it for a while and then eventually starts attacking her in frustration, which does nothing to fix the problem but must feel fucking fantastic.
After we were once trapped in a car with Lauca like that during peak hour traffic Bill and I ended up naming it her ‘Courtney Love’ issue. She was wailing in a voice hoarse from crying, or maybe it was cigarettes, and cursing incoherently in the back seat with ratty blonde hair and tears all over her face and it really felt like we were stuck in a very small space (like a tour bus, for instance) with someone coming down off major drugs. Don’t get us wrong, we’re both big fans of Hole (and our daughter), but no-one has ever described the glorious Ms Love as even-tempered and easy-going. Lauca doesn’t like being called Courtney Love and I get that. I wouldn’t want my emotions to be nicknamed either, but it is ‘fight or flight’ for us; we make light of the situation because our heads are being done in and we are on the verge of losing it completely.
A close friend and I took our children to the art gallery this week. Lauca was having a Courtney Love day so it was utterly exhausting. And once all four children got tired and hungry enough to dial in to Lauca’s Courtney Love vibe it got quite unbearable for us. My friend ironically declared, we need drugs. I told her, you’re the doctor with the prescription pad, get us some fucking valium. But she only laughed.
By the way, this post was supposed to be just some innocent photo blogging for December.. so, apparently I need to get some stuff off my chest.
Cormac with thoughts of art or thoughts of Courtney Love, you be the judge?
It has been play-date/sleep-over central here. Lauca, being a die-hard co-sleeper has her own version of the sleep-over, which is to invite your friends over for the night and bunk down in your room, then to abandon them half way through to go and sleep with your parents and your baby brother. Let me state: quite a tiring arrangement for the parents.
Brief glimpses of intense sunshine has meant that I have occasionally been able to take Lauca and a friend over to the neighbor’s pool for a swim. It isn’t Christmas without some sunburn.
And I have also been taking the kids to the zoo. I am that good a mother.
(Such a good mother that I found a goddamn craft holiday hippy workshop for Lauca, and she loved it, and our house is now full of Xmas decorations fashioned out of recycled industrial materials).
Towards the end of one afternoon at the zoo, when I was surrounded by over-tired and over-stimulated children I noticed they were playing “What About Me?” over the intercom. I had to wonder: private joke for the parents?
Bill and I have started watching Deadwood again and I think my New Years Resolution this year might be to fuckin’ talk more like fuckin’ Deadwood. I love Calamity Jane.
There is no real ending to this post.
I’ve been reading your blog for nearly three years now and I don’t think I have ever commented (very slack, I know, not to mention, rude in the overlurking) but I’ve enjoyed every single post (Yes, indeed. Every. Single. One).
But I think this one rates as one of my top three. Am not a parent (but am doing a phd on same-sex parenting which is how I came across your blog while fishing online for funny, desperate, hopeful, loving parenting blogs – yours and Dooce amongst my must-reads).
So I thought I would finally chime in and say ‘Thanks for blogging, even when you’ve had it up to here!’ and also “hope it gets better IMMEDIATELY”.
PS I love Courtney too. But soooo wouldn’t want her as my kid
PPS Lauca and Cormac are gorgeous. But you know that.
People have a tendency to think that my lad is adorable because he pouts and his eyes well up and they think that a ‘sensitive boy’ is so much sweeter than a child who throws tantrums.
I just wish he wouldn’t declare ‘You hate me because I’m stupid’ when I inform him that no, he has not picked up all his toys
Manipulative little monster. I love him unconditionally but still…
‘When we’re in the thick of it ‘emotional basketcase’ might be more accurate – flailing, self-pitying, catastrophising, despairing, sobbing, angst-ing, complaining, hating, arguing, irrational-ising, blaming, and generally emotional-rollercoasting.’
OK, so I hadn’t noticed she’d gone, but as you have clearly kidnapped my daugther, can I have her back now? No rush, just in time for Christmas would be nice.
“Not Christmas without some sunburn”—hah, yeah, I’m realizing that, experiencing my first Southern Hemisphere Xmas ever. It’s been mostly windy and muggy in my neck of New Zealand, but some days of sheer sunstroke, and people turning pink all around. It’s surreal, not to mention worrisome.
Wow, I guess I’ve been reading for about two years now, since I remember Cormac in the womb. It’s been very illuminating and entertaining, and I look forward to reading years more.
What a great post blue milk! That emotional basketcase stuff is very familiar to me from when my second son was younger. To help us survive the situation we would call him the reverse of his name (like kram for mark). Once when I was trapped in a car with the reverse-name-boy I drove into a parked truck, luckily no one was injured. Of course now that he is a chilled out 13 yo he remembers nothing of those times and appears so sensible and generally delightful that we might almost forget too.
Aaah thank you for making me feel a little less psychotic. Its been a mad few weeks here too. x
I think this has to be one of my favourite posts of yours. Enjoy the blog lots in general too, of course. I’m going to have to start using the ‘highly strung’ description for my oldest daughter, because ‘completely insane’ isn’t really something we should be telling others she is. Today was one of those days where the best thing that happened was that we weren’t stuck in the car.
Thanks for getting this post off your chest.
Sage had an amazing Courtney Day yesterday. I like to announce that no-one’s allowed to talk until we get home, just so I don’t have to engage for another hour of it.
Jethro, my younger is much less labile, but used to do a good toddler meltdown. He had one on a rare outing to the mall one day and “What about me?” started playing over the tannoy. I just dropped my bags and sang it to him (lying on the ground) at the top of my voice. It cheered me and a few spectators up 🙂
Thank you for these lovely, lovely comments everyone.. and especially thank you to Karina for de-lurking.
Dropping in from Google Reader (which is terrible for commenting habits) to wave, and offer condolences for raising Courtney Love. My youngest has phases like that, although they’re somewhat mitigated by the fact that he’s only six months old and can’t curse us out yet. (At least, not in a language we understand. We can still say “aww, poor baby” with a straight face.)
Also, to express jealousy over what I assume is your petting zoo having kangaroos. Ours only ever have deer and small goats!
Ah, yes, totally relate. I swear I have actually seen Fred’s head spin all the way around. I have had days where I have actually been quite traumatised by her behaviour. Especially in Paris. Fucking Paris!
You know before I had kids I didn’t get sensory deprivation tanks. Now I want one instead of a bed.
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I have been following your blog for quite some time now and I just want to say it has been a pleasure reading. I hope you keep on blogging and I will keep on reading. Thanks!
You could be writing about my children a couple of years in the future. The resemblances are uncanny.
This kind of worries me…
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“Courtney Love” – perfect! I am going to steal it! I have one of these – my daughter is six and has always been an individual of, ahem, emotional extremes – but since she started kindergarten it is OUT OF CONTROL. I’m not sure I’m going to make it through adolescence if this is any indication…
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We now have our own version of this! It’s when Joe becomes Joffrey.
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