Writer’s Workshop: My mini-me



Here is the deal.  This is a hard post for me to write, one that might hurt just a little. One that might cause me to tear up just a bit.  The question before me today is: What does my child (Principessa) do that reminds you most of yourself? How does it make you feel?

Uh-oh.

Principessa at 5 1/2 is a tremendous spirit.  She is independent, curious, creative, sensitive, HIGHLY active, and CONSTANTLY talking.  Most of these, if channeled correctly, could be positive personality traits. Part of the issue is that Principessa is an only child, so on a day to day basis, she does not have another pal partner in crime.  Even with a sibling though, I am not sure that she would be all that different.  The truth is that Principessa at 5 1/2 is moody and talks back to me, and sadly, that is probably how she MOST resembles me.  I am sure that there are other traits that we share, but for now, the one that stands out, is the most dangerous of all.

There is history to this story.  A few days ago, during who knows what conversation, Principessa told me that “all we (as in she and I) do is argue.” I think I may have gone pale. I know that I was speechless.

It is true, I am strict with her. I have high expectations.  I have my own opinions, and for the most part, have an incessant need to be right all of the time.  Can you tell what is coming?  Principessa is quite possibly the most opinionated child I have ever encountered (and as a teacher of gifted students, I have encountered a great many contenders).  She insists that everyone else is wrong when there is a different perspective.  You don’t believe me?  Case in point:  a few weeks ago while driving to Norfolk, Principessa broke into song.  The best line of her song was “I know who I am and you are wrong.”  Again, uh-oh.

So yes, we butt heads.

The scary part of all of this, is that history is repeating itself.  I love Cara Mamma the Elder, truly I do.  I respect her and admire her, and consider her a best friend.  This has not always been the case.  From the age of….. probably ten to at least sixteen, although I know that I loved her, all we did was fight.  I was brutal to her.  I talked back…a lot.  I said not nice things.  I remember dreaming about having a mom that I could go to lunch with, followed by shopping, with constant chatter about who knows what.  Dreams of having a mom that understood me, and that did not ground me (oh yes, being grounded was something that I mastered at an early age).

The funny thing is that the mom I dreamed of…was my mom, Cara Mamma the Elder.  But it took us (me) a long time to get there.  I was not able to appreciate the many wonderful things that Cara Mamma the Elder did do, nor did I understand the stress of being a mom, and dealing with two very different children (snarky &  moody me, and then my brother who, lets just say that he did not love school- nor did school really love him.).  It is not as if I was a BAD kid. I did not drink, I got decent grades, I played sports, and outside of my house behaved like the upstanding socially skilled daughter of Dr. and Mrs S. But at home- with my mom (I never dreamed of talking back to my dad)…. I was….not nice.

So when Principessa told me that all we do is fight… and I think about her stubborn, outspoken persona, I am scared.   I worry about her bossiness and how it will impact her peer relationships.  I worry about her being inflexible. I worry about how our fighting will cause her pain and lead to self doubt.  But most of all, I do not want to wait 30 years to have a good relationship with her.  Life is too short.

Thank you MamaKat for another inspired prompt.

Tagged as: mother daughter relationships, parenting, principessa