This morning I didn't even get any clothes out for Violet to wear. Not me, nuh-uh. Violet is in a skirt wearing phase. She is like the wicked witch wet with water in that once her eyes settle on mere shorts or leggings she melts to the ground in a puddle of unfair world. Andrew and I are usually the rulers of unfairness and so I just decided to not go there this morning. Then when we got ready to walk out into a chilly morning I asked Violet to step outside and decide for herself if she needed a sweatshirt. She first declared it would not be the gray one and then decided it was a little windy and would need her pink sweatshirt. When I got home from taking her to school I fell on the floor exhausted from this little person she has become of late. Violet has always been easy, easy, easy in regards to clothes, textures, hot and cold. She was always agreeable to dressing warm and could role with jeans or dress up in tights. Now she treats getting dressed as important as gathering gear for climbing Everest. One wrong decision and she is reckoning with the Gods who dare to disregard her need for twirl.
This strength in opinion extents to other areas as well. This morning when I placed what was a suitable cereal bowl yesterday in front of her she scrunched up her face in the most hideous display of horror. In between the sobs of emotion she snuffled out words that might describe a different, blue colored bowl that she could not bear to be without. Wait, is this puberty? Because I am pretty sure IT'S A BOWL. And if there is a preference a simple request may be more effective than the rigorous display of discomfort. Holy shit.
To counteract all this turbulence Violet is enormously gooey with love lately. She tells us at least 20 times daily she loves us. She can't stop saying it. The goodnight routine is an exhaustion of love. Smooches, hugs, butterfly kisses. We put up her big girl bed, a antique twin bed that is great. She moved easily to the new sleeping arrangement and holds her own on a bigger bed. Her legs, once lagging behind her, seem to grow daily.
Andrew and I are reaching up our sleeves in the battle with head strong Violet. We recently got her a timer and set it when we need to put a time limit on something. A few nights ago a struggle unsued involving putting on pajamas for bedtime. So we gave her 5 minutes telling her that when the timer goes off she will have to put them on. In five minutes, when that glorious timer went off, she pushed Papa out of the way and ran to her heap of bed time clothes waiting for her and put them on faster than lightning. I am not sure how long this will last but I will take every little ounce of relief in this kidstorm.
I am full of smiles Effie. Except for the puberty comment. As we are finding out, puberty just may be more difficult on the parents than the child. Enjoy her attempts and trials at big girlery, because they do grow o' so fast.
Next time bed time is a struggle, just think of trying to get three down. :)
Posted by: Jason | July 12, 2009 at 08:54 AM