Raising a girl...Part 2

In January I posted the first part of this.  You can catch it here.

Raising a girl takes a tough cookie of a mama.  Well, when you have a strong-willed and occasionally bull-headed girl (hmmm where does she get that?)  I feel like since we entered second grade last fall things have really been shaken not stirred around here.

In my first post I talked about about I would look at her and see my sweet little girl had been replaced with someone who was 14 and not 18.  Her attitude changes and the way she totally shifted in how she talked and acted were huge compared to what my girl was just a year or so ago.

But it is part of growing up.

My daughter is eight years old and the other day I was reminded how a few years ago a mom friend said to me:  "Oh wait until they turn eight."

I never knew what she meant but now I get it.

Things change...attitude, personality, questions, feelings, toys, friends, everything.

So today in this post I want to write about my own fear of raising this eight year old kid.  I want to turn this totally on mama for a second.  Yes, I'll incorporate her back in but this is for mama.

I struggle with this question:

Will she hate me?

Look, I'm not a mom who is a big softy.  I yell, a lot.  I get frustrated, more than I should  I am not patient at 7pm on a week night.

I see all my parental flaws and after the lights go out for the night I'm staring at the ceiling saying to myself, "She hates me."

Personally, I had/have a good mom.  In all my childhood I did not ever hate my mom.  Yes, I may have been pissed off by her upteen million times because growing up you get pissed easily (no ice cream, no toy, no twenty dollars, no mall trip, no over priced junk you won't like in two weeks...) but I never hated her.

Let it be known I never remember her yelling or getting frustrated (with me) or having to watch her lose her patience.

Which I did not have a little brother around during those younger years.  I feel like that made a very big difference.  I was the one and only for 13.75 years of my life and I didn't have to share my mom's attention with another child when I was eight.  Mind you, she did have to give other things her attention like college but I was never pitted against another kid for attention.

And I think this makes a huge difference.

Will she hate me because she has a brother?

Ahhh another question I ask myself.  Will her brother be the link to hating me.  He is three and requires a bit more attention for some tasks.  I always incorporate her into assisting me with him or him on her own but is that translating to hating on me?

I would like to think not.  But sometimes when I get that precious moment of just she and I and I ask her I get a look.  A look that says, "You're really asking me this.  Don't you know?"

Meh.  I kinda know but not from an eight year old's standpoint.

Will she hate her brother?

My kids are close.  They actually entertain each other quite well right now.  People always are so shocked when they see how well they interact.  I get these strange compliments on them - I imagine it is "shock and awe!"  Really, who would have thought an eight year old and a three year old would be friends?

But sometimes I watch her interacting with him and I wonder if she resents him more than she should.

Or is it frustration that she cannot control?

Lately, I see her push him more over something so dare I say childish.  Of course the adult in me starts analyzing the reaction and the mama in me always feels guilt.

I'm not teaching her right.
I'm not doing this right.
My kid is going to hate me forever.
My kid is going to make her brother a member of fight club.

What can I do better?

I have prayed for patience.  I do not recommend praying for that because you will get your multitude of situations to "work on it" in.  Every day I think God gives me six new ways to test my patience.  It isn't humbling me right now...I'm afraid it is hardening me.

How many times to do moms say, How can I do this parenting thing better?

We could read every parenting book under the sun and note their redundancies and then google the authors to see how many live in an apartment in New York and have never been around a child for more than a five minute train ride.

We could converse with other mamas only to find out we're all doing the same thing and we all have the same struggles.

We could drink more wine!

Or maybe we could do something else....

Remind ourselves of the good stuff that is happening.  

Like opening my inbox to find an email from my daughter that says:

I loveeeeeeeeee youuuuuuuu mom! (with about five hundred emoticons behind it.)

Or sneaking in her room to get a cuddle before she officially falls asleep and going into a conversation about the number of necessary blankets to be cozy.

How about taking her to school and how quickly she says, I love you and starts blowing kisses before she puts her hand on the door latch.

That high five for the 100 she made on the math test.

The prayer you taught her to pray that night to remind herself how blessed she is even when she doesn't think she is.

The fact that she can drift to sleep holding your hand.  Realizing when you look at her sleeping face she's the same little baby that used to be propped up in the boppy with you late at night watching movies, intently staring you down because she was so enamored with you - every single thing about you.  Then realizing that though this period seems a little difficult you still see that look of wonderment at the strangest times when you notice she's watching you cook dinner, pay bills, drive the car, fold the laundry, or read a book.

She doesn't hate me.