There’s this thing we do, it is supposed to be four times a year but it generally isn’t, and it is really a little time capsule for the kids and us to read in years to come and it is likely horribly boring for everyone else… so, feel free to ignore these particular posts.
(See also, here for what we enjoyed most this time).
Mine.
- I feel so terribly sad for you about your night terrors. They happen more nights than not. They often have you quite frightened and distraught. Apparently there is next to nothing we can do to stop them happening to you so they pretty much have me a little frightened and distraught at times, too.
- How messy you make your bedroom. The guinea pig cage is actually the cleanest thing in your room. I think I have another fifteen years or so where I will need to just grin and bear this before you likely grow out of this one.
- Two times in the last six months you have been in situations where I thought oh my god you could have died and that isn’t something one recovers from easily as a parent.
- You talk at volume as soon as you wake up in the morning, regardless of what time it is and regardless of who else is still asleep. You do this even on the nights when you sleep with Cormac and I and Bill escapes to the solitude of the spare queen bed.
- You still have the loudest cry of anybody I know and you’re not afraid to use it.
- We’re very disorganised about your homework because of the whole ‘working back late and not picking you and getting home until it is your bedtime’ problem. You’re quite conscientious about your homework, in bursts. This homework thing is a lot of pressure, that and getting to school late because the morning multiple drop-offs routine is so tight are where I most feel the work and family thing is in conflict for you.
- When you and your little brother are tired and cranky and you just fight continuously in the back of the car while I am trying to drive. And I am tired and cranky, too. It feels like I am about to be shattered.
- I wish we had more time together, just the two of us. I still miss our old closeness. You’re still a little introvert and while you’re getting better at talking about problems with me you still won’t share worries and concerns easily.
- You were spending very little time on the computer for a while there but now you’re absorbed in some new computer game again and we’re letting you spend too much time on the computer on the weekends and I hate it when we suck like that as parents.
- There is always a long list in my head of things I should be doing more of with you – one of them at the moment is designing and constructing things with you, which apparently you need to do more of for school – and I wish I felt like I was ticking off more of these things.
- Late last year I had this big worry about you and how maybe you weren’t doing enough to take care of your personal appearance and how I wondered about how this looked, like people would think I didn’t care about you as a mother if you got about in the stained, torn, too-small-for-you clothes while your brother and I looked more or less presentable. I also worried about whether you were going to start getting teased or left out by other little girls you play with who I can see are just starting to really embrace girly culture. Then I decided that your lack of self-awareness was really a blessing and that I should just relax. And about the same time you decided to start letting me brush your hair and you even wiped food off your face before you went out for the day and you would sometimes spoil me by asking if a certain outfit went together before wearing it. Anyway, I worried a lot more than I needed to about all that.
His.
- You still are capable of making an enormous mess. You leave everything out because all of it is special and unfinished and can’t be parted with. I think you are a bit like me in that respect.
- Your craft is so messy.
- You can be quite needy. I can be ironing clothes and making breakfast for you and your brother and trying to get to work on time and you want me to stop everything to come and see something in your room and you’re unwilling to believe it isn’t possible for me to do that.
- I wish you would unpack your school bag or at least not threaten to vomit when you have to unpack your own lunchbox.
- I wish you could talk more quietly.
- I wish you would stop using Windows on your computer, which you only do to annoy me and it causes lots of networking problems.
- You try and get me to play these ‘six year old girl’ hand slapping games with you and I do not like these games. Go find another 6 year old girl to play those with, please.
- You always pretend to be hungry when it’s bedtime, it is your delaying tactic and you really work hard to believe it yourself.
- Sometimes when you are sent to find something, like your school uniform, you put zero effort into it and instead you lie on your bed and cry about not finding it when it will be right there next to you on the bed. You have brought disgrace to the term “having a girl look”.
- I wish you would widen your food choices. I find it difficult coming up with recipes that don’t use any cheese or tomato ever. We’re already vegetarians, we’ve ruled out meat, we can’t rule out much more.
I had number 11 issues with Caitlin, and the boys too for that matter. I really thought for a while that I’d done far too good a job of convincing them that what someone looks like isn’t important. My youngest will still occasionally insist that he doesn’t care what anyone else thinks of how he looks as I beg him to please choose clothes that fit him and are clean when we’re going out somewhere nice, but I think that’s now more to do with being too lazy to get changed than anything else. 🙂
I am laughing forever at your partner’s #6, about using Windows. Of all the things – it’s the most remarkable “sign of the times.”
Also, your #7. Fights in the car are the worst, and you have all my sympathy. As young as mine are, I can still distract them with a repeating loop of their favorite music, but I imagine that a day will come when that will not work, and I don’t know what I’ll do. Probably threaten to never take them anywhere ever again, only to sheepishly take them someplace the very next day because we need to.
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Now this is all quite familiar…
I love the gift of these lists too.
I can relate these to my 7 yo. Except the hair. Mine is hairstyle obsessed.
About your No 11. My 10 yo’s bestie has Tourettes. She’s cool, and has power, because she doesn’t care what other people think of her. (Although I find it funny that she’s embarrassed to be seen at school with her mum.)