Why Does She Have to Have MY Genes??

Last Saturday, Sophie was (with her dad) outside all day in the heat: walking the dog, watching her cousin’s baseball game, practicing baseball with her team, etc. Sunday she had a birthday party (with me) at The Magic House (children’s touch museum). Therefore, it was no surprise to me that both Sunday and Monday nights she was beyond exhausted.

In fact, she was so tired that she got all emotional Monday evening. After school, we came home and ate pizza, then took Chloë (the dog) to the park with us to play tennis. Then we played on the playground. At 7:20pm we left and I was kicking myself for making it so late because we still had reading homework, bath, story time, etc. (Even though there were still tons of kids there – much younger than Sophie. Maybe they have two parents at home and the routine doesn’t take as long. Or maybe there are older siblings who help. For us, it just seems like the bedtime routine takes FOREVER. So. Much. Time. of our evening).

Anyway, we got home and she started throwing a fit over I don’t remember what. She was crying and couldn’t get through her reading homework and I threatened not to sign the paper saying she did it if she didn’t calm down and read it so I could understand her words. To which she responded, “Well it’s YOUR job to sign it!” To which *I* responded, “Not if you don’t read it properly!” Fun times.

Then Miss Dramatic apparently banged her elbow while I was in the shower and she needed an ice pack for the rest of the evening and could only do everything one-handed. She was still carrying on a bit and claiming that “It’s not good to hold in your tears!” while I was thinking, “It’s not good to drive Mommy to drink!” I was getting frustrated because the clock was ticking and I still had computer work to do and *I* was exhausted as well. So since I was frustrated, I told her, “You know Sophie, we did everything fun; everything you wanted to do today. We ate pizza. We played tennis. We played at the park. And now you’re throwing a fit and I just don’t think that’s fair.” (FAIR? Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to say to HER, “Life isn’t fair”?). “I rush home from work to get to you to get dinner and do something fun and you know, I’m tired too but you throwing a fit after all that fun stuff makes me feel like you don’t really appreciate it…” This of course got her crying again til I hugged her and distracted her with a story.

Later though when we’re lying in bed, she starts crying again and I say, “Sophie, why are you crying?” She wails, “Because you do all these nice things for me and I’m not even grateful!!” Okay well I kind of DID tell her that I just wish she didn’t INTERNALIZE everything. But I internalize everything. She does the same thing I did to my mom. One little criticism or suggestion for doing/being better and our little minds turn it into “You hate me and don’t think I can do ANYTHING right” when really Mom simply suggested wiping out the sink after you spit your toothpaste in it. And this is BEFORE hormones, folks.

Then Sophie moves on to, “Also, I’m really nervous about my field trip tomorrow.” Her class was going to tour the second through fourth grade elementary school (where she’ll go next year; the schools are all split up due to space. It’s also less than a mile from our house, and less than a mile where she goes now) and go on a picnic lunch in the park. I asked her why was she nervous? She said, “Well there are too many kids for just one bus and how are we all going to fit and how are we going to know which bus to take and WHERE ARE THEY TAKING US??” as if the buses are going to suddenly veer off into a deep dark forest or something. I tried to calm her fears about that (there will be many buses; the teachers will be with you and show you which bus to get on, etc.)

THEN she tells me, “I’m nervous about a lot of things, Mom. Do you want to hear all the things I’m nervous about?” I look at the clock. Tiredly I answer, “Not right now, Sophie. It’s after 9pm.”

I told her that she was EXHAUSTED and therefore overly emotional and that I get the exact same way when I’m over-tired (true story) and that she just needed to focus on happy thoughts and she would feel much better in the morning (she did).

When Sophie fell asleep (not long after that), I had a chance to chat with my non-parent friend Becky and she laughed and laughed at the story. (She doesn’t know any other 7 year olds who talk like that). Then she asked me if I was that nervous at that young age. I don’t remember. I remember noticing my OCD/anxious tendencies in 6^th grade but I’m sure there were signs long before that. I was a cautious child when I was young, though I also sought “safe” thrills (i.e. I used to cry at Six Flags because I wasn’t yet tall enough to ride the scariest roller coasters). (Sophie would probably only ride the baby rides at Six Flags right now which is why I refuse to waste $65+ taking her there).

I did recall all of this to my mother the next day and she claims that I was EXACTLY. THE. SAME. She said that yes, I too would worry about things like field trips and busses and where they were going and how many kids in each and would they line up on the left side of the school or the right side and….

Ugh. Good grief.

On the other hand, Sophie is an extremely energetic, outgoing, happy child. You can often find her singing spontaneously or skipping around.

I guess as long as the nervousness doesn’t take over the happy/singing/skipping side of her, we’ll be okay. Until hormones hit, that is.