My (almost) 7 Year Old Broke Me!
That’s right. My daughter made me cry.
After months and months of her mouth, I finally reached a point where I could not take any more. It’s not like there was one big incident that pushed me over the edge. It was just the culmination of everything boiling over.
After I last wrote about Irene and her mouth, I took her up to Lake Tahoe to spend a week with my parents. Every day my mom would call me and tell me what an angel Irene was. While I was happy Irene was being good for my parents, it hurt that she could be so good for them, and so bad for me. Adding salt to the wound, my mom told me how much Irene was eating – and the variety of what she ate. With me, I have to beg her to eat. Many a meal at our house ends with Peter and me screaming at Irene to go to her room after she makes a big show about how much she hates the food I made her (usually by gagging and vomiting at the table). If you’re wondering, many of the things my mom served Irene are IDENTICAL to the food I make her.
Anyway, after a week of being a food eating angel, I headed up to Tahoe with Sam to join Irene and my parents. The moment I entered the house, perfect food eating angel Irene vanished, and the child I have come to know reappeared. She started picking at her food and mouthing off to any adult (except my father – whom she worships) who dared to tell her what to do. It got so bad, that one night while my dad and I were out on a father/daughter date, Irene pushed my mom so hard that she made my mother cry. Yep, Irene managed to make her own grandmother cry with her behavior. It’s a sad day when a grandmother feels like her only granddaughter hates her.
After that incident, I decided to take Irene home. That was on Friday. Since then, Irene has been sassy, rude, gagging at the table, and generally being as nasty and mean as possible. My breaking point came two days ago, when after asking Irene what she wanted for lunch, I watched her pick all of the meat off her sandwich and when I told her she needed to eat the meat, she proceed to scream and yell at me about how mean I am and refusing to even go near something so disgusting. (Mind you – this is the same sandwich she asked for and the same sandwich she eats EVERY day at school.)
Like I said, it wasn’t one big thing, but the build up of many things. I can only hope that she will get this out of her system before she becomes a teenager or one of us will not survive.
Any ideas on how not to let her get to me?