So there we were in an average, over-priced hotel room while buckets and buckets of rain dumped down on the outside world. We were just about to put on our bathing suits and head down to the unexceptional hotel swimming pool when my oldest daughter blurted, without thinking, "I don't even mind having a baby sister if I still get to go swimming with my Mom!"
I wondered how long she had been waiting to say something like that. Earlier that afternoon the two of us had climbed into the car and driven less than an hour away where we checked into a hotel and headed out to do some shopping. She had hardly stopped talking since we left the house. At one point she paused to take a big breath and then carried on telling me about everything important that happened in fourth grade, things I had never even imagined. There weren't any toddlers to chase or sighing eight year olds to console. All of my attention was focused on Emma, and when I agreed to buy her a pair of leopard print Fergalicious ballet flats, her voice reach new octaves. This time away with my daughter was long overdue.
Emma at
Culver's where she ordered a Coconut Cream Concrete Mixer
Let me back up just a little. Would you like to know what I've been doing all summer? Too late. I'm going to tell you anyway. All summer long I have been losing my mind agonizing over all of the fussing, fighting, and arguing that the children at my house do. I have begun to write about it on several occasions, but during my rare moments of alone time, I always determine that I would much rather engage in some sort of escapism than reflect on what has been plaguing me all day.
We have had countless conversations about how lucky my daughters are to have each other, how their relationships will likely be the longest relationships they have in this lifetime, how important it is to remember and appreciate each others' differences. I have conducted seminars on nurturing the needs of introverts verses extroverts. My extroverted daughter Emma concludes that extroverts are ALWAYS the ones who have to sacrifice in order to give introverts their quiet, alone time. She is probably right. In an attempt to appease her introverted sister and mother, she has been trying to squelch and swallow her extroverted natural tendencies all summer. And when she falls short, we growl at her. We tell her to "calm down" and to "stop being so LOUD"!
I had always been told that when I had a third child, I'd need to be hyper vigilant and not allow my poor middle child to feel overlooked and left out, but it has become very clear to me recently that my eldest is the one who needs some extra attention. Being the oldest can be quite a burden, especially if you are a sensitive girl who doesn't want to add to your weary mama's work load. Maybe there's also a little part of you that just can't bear the rejection of your mama saying, "I'm sorry. I am just too tired to [fill in the blank] with you tonight," so you just start swallowing your wants, and you start feeling less and less important, and you just stop asking your mama to do those little things that make you feel warm and fuzzy and like a loved little person. All of this can happen so quietly that it almost goes unnoticed.
Things were feeling out of balance. Sibling sniping was at an all time high, and I felt like I was absorbing it all, leaving my children with a husk of a mama. It was my husband who noticed that I was looking puny and defeated, and he suggested that I get some time away. When I thought about taking my oldest girl with me on a little adventure, I started to feel energized. So I made it happen.
We didn't need to go far, but the moment we hit the road, I realized how much my daughter and I needed time away together. I realized just how much she had been yearning for her mama's undivided attention. I realized how quickly she is growing and changing, and I remembered how proud I am to call her my daughter.
After an afternoon of shopping and indulging in a fabulous, intimate dinner (at our favorite fast food establishment), I was caught up on everything that she had been thinking and feeling over the last year or so. We decided to return to our hotel and go swimming... and I actually swam. There wasn't a toddler on my hip. There wasn't an eight year old begging me to "watch this" every 30 seconds. I put my head under the water and swam pretty much just like Michael Phelps does, except for the fact that my abs are a little stronger than his. My daughter and I raced back and forth across the pool. We somersaulted in the deep end, and we jumped back and forth from the hot tub into the cold swimming pool. "Doesn't this make you feel alive, Mom?" Well, of course it did!
That night we curled up in bed together and watched a movie. The next morning, we packed up our stuff and headed to Emma's dream destination:
Bronner's, the world's largest Christmas store.
We spent several hours in this store. I learned to sympathize with husbands who wearily follow their shopping spouses while carrying pocketbooks and making supportive comments like, "Yes, dear, that one is lovely." Emma wanted to find an appropriately suitable Christmas ornament for each person in our family. I totally held it together as she agonized over which glass Santa Claus had the cutest and jolliest face and which traditional Christmas pickle seemed the most sincere. We had fun, and my girl Emma felt like the only girl in the world.
After completely losing track of what day, time, and season it was while we were in Bronner's, we parked and walked around the charming Bavarian town of Frankenmuth. Emma decided we should dine at the apparently world famous Bavarian Inn. I'm sure you've heard of it.
Not only was she impressed with the friendly blokes in lederhosen, but she was also a huge fan of the five different varieties of lemonade and the obviously authentic Bavarian chicken pot pie that she ordered. It hardly gets much better when you're ten. When we returned home that evening, I brought back a different girl. This girl was happy and relaxed. This girl felt loved and important. This girl was not constantly on the brink of rolling her eyes at me.
So here is what I've learned. Spending quality time alone with each child does not bring sibling spats and screaming matches to a halt, but it improves the dynamics in the house overall. My daughter Emma and I now have a weekend of memories stored up in our emotional bank accounts. Now I am not only the mom who asks her to "PLEASE calm down" when she morphs into a cacophonous bounding bundle of frenzied elbows and flip flops. I am also the lady who huddled under an umbrella with her as we skipped through the rain, laughing with each other, knowing that there was no where else we'd rather be.
I hope that the next time it feels like emotions are raw and patience is impossibly short at my house, I will remember that what my kids need even more than a lecture about personality types is time alone with me to play. Sometimes my girls need a break from practicing good manners and waiting for their turns. Sometimes a girl needs a chance to be completely selfish and to have her mama all to herself. Sometimes a ten year old wants to curl up in bed next to her mom and sleep there all night with nobody else squeezing in between them.
The real moral of the story is that we need some helpful grandparents living nearby. That would sure make all of the above a lot easier. What do you say, Mimi? Our Michigan winters aren't THAT bad.
