Battle Weary over Mary

For someone who is only 38 inches tall, my little Mary packs a power punch. She's like a boxer who never tires. She will fight and fight for what she wants and rarely gives up. She exhausts me. She wears me out more than Jazzercise ever could. Where does she find the energy to display all of these emotions? I'm tired just riding her roller coaster with her. I don't really want to ride it...but I'm pulled along as an unwilling passenger. She needs me. For everything.

Things have been really rough since Ted left. I told you about her fit at Ted's send-off....well, it hasn't gotten any better. Last night she woke me at 3am and 5:15am like a three month old. It's like she had a dream of still fighting with me and woke up yelling at me...both times. And then when she got up in morning she started the day with another angry cry for me. I find it harder and harder to continue to be her maypole that she wraps herself around. But it seems that the more I put her off, the more she wants me. So I sit...I hold her...get her her milk...her blanket...whatever it is she needs for that moment to feel secure and at peace, but it's not long before she needs something else.

Mary's tantrums have gotten louder and longer and more demanding. They are little things that aren't even worth describing here. This morning after dealing with her through the night and then again when I woke up just put me to the point of exhaustion. Jane (mother-in-law) came over to take Sam to his basketball game for me...which I appreciated greatly. I told her I had a rough night and morning with Mary. When Jane came back with Sam, Mary was able to display some very ugly colors when she kept yelling at me for talking while she was trying to lay down and "sleep". I told Mary I was not going to stop talking and if she wanted to sleep, she could go in another room. Mary started screaming. Jane and I were trying to continue our conversation above the screams...but it was difficult. I told Mary to stop or I would put her in time out. She didn't stop so I put her on the stairs. She didn't stay, so I had to hold her down. Meanwhile, my frustration is building. I brought her to her bedroom and spanked her with my hand three times. I don't know why I let myself do that...it's fruitless. I just felt helpless. She did the same thing last night at my parents. She wouldn't listen to me and through a fit. She made everyone suffer while she expressed her displeasure.

I did the only other thing that I know works for both of us. Since I can't keep her in time out, I put myself in time out. I locked myself in my room. But then she said she had to go to the bathroom...and I accompany her on ALL of her bathroom trips. Are you getting the drift here? I'm just starting to realize how ridiculous all this sounds. Anyway, I came out of my room defeated. Jane was there to hug me as I cried. And then she gave me a wake up call. Just like my pediatrician did when I had trouble getting Ben to poop in the potty. In so many ways she told me I needed to take it to the next level. That things are getting worse and all that I am doing now is not enough. You really don't want to hear these things from you mother-in-law, but after she left I thought about what she said. I thought about how it must feel to see her daughter-in-law get bossed around and manipulated by her 3 year old daughter. She was standing up like a warrior, fighting for me, wanting me to fight for myself. Jane doesn't say anything like this unless it's absolutely necessary.

In my mind I defended myself. "Some battles aren't worth fighting with her"...."I DO discipline her with consequences....locking myself up can be very effective!"...I DO tell her no...and don't let her screams keep me from enforcing my stand". But deep inside I knew I was missing the point by defending myself so much. The point was, I need to try something different. I called my sister Lisa, who is someone I can always go to in despair. I can bawl like a baby and let her comfort me. Only someone who grew up sharing a room with you can know where you are coming from. Only another mother who has "been there" can truly hear you and giving the knowing "I know" nod, and you know...they really DO know. She dropped everything to be there for me. She had already been praying for me because I had called her and asked for prayers during the bad morning I was having. But she was there to hear my humiliation with the recent incident. She knows how to talk to me...she knows what to say and she knows how to listen. She's perfect active listener. She's in my corner, ready to defend me to the end. She agreed that she didn't like the way Mary had been treating me. We talked about the problems with time out and she suggested that I lock her in her room. She suggested getting a safety type door handle that won't let her out when she is in time out...so it can be a truly effective time out.

You can't always lock yourself in your room. When she disrupts our mealtimes, Ted has to take her to her room and stay up there with her so she doesn't leave. It's a total pain. When I was at my parents and she acted up, it was just unrealistic to lock myself up. This door handle thing might sound extreme...but I have to take control. I feel she's old enough to understand that this isn't acceptable. It took some women in my corner to make me stand up and do something about it. Something more than I was doing. It took Ted to be gone, in order for me to reach rock bottom, and reach out to them. Normally he gets everything (all of my emotions)....and he fixes everything, but on retreat...you are supposed to RETREAT! He deserves a break from all of this.

I can hear Super Nanny saying to me in her beautifully British voice, "She needs to know that this behavior is unacceptable." And then I hear Dr Phil asking while she's throwing a fit, "What is she getting out of this?" Most probably...HER WAY. It's not like I give in to her after a fit. I tend to keep the peace to AVOID the fit. For an example, I'm trying me new firmer way...in all the small things. After going potty she told me to turn out the lights. I politely told her she could turn out the lights...she's a big girl. Then she threw herself to the floor, spilling her gold fish. She then cried and told me to pick them up. I told her that she could pick them up. Before, I would have just turned out the darn lights. Now she is screaming while I'm locked in my room. Before I locked myself up, she said, "I'll stop crying!". It is really is a punishment for her to be separated from me.

I'll let you know how things change in our house. I'm hoping for greater peace at mealtimes and other times in our house, a greater sense of dignity for myself, and a sense of control. And hopefully, I'll be a better example to Abby on how she expect herself to be treated by her children. I've been giving Mary the age excuse too long. She's old enough to toe the line like the rest of them. Now I need God's help to see it through.