I have a secret to share, and it’s not one I take lightly.
“Mom! Jake is outside! Can I play with him?” shouted my 7-year-old, Mia, as a swarm of insects buzzed into the house through the open door.
“Sure, Mia, but remember to stay in the yard,” I replied.
“Why do I always have to stay in the yard?” she called back, dashing out before I could respond.
I have a secret to share, and it’s a heavy one. If I keep it bottled up, I fear I might lose my sanity.
“Do you need me to grab dinner on my way home?” my husband texted.
“Sounds good,” I replied, feeling the weight of the day settle in.
Mia’s best friend, Jake, lives next door. He’s 5 years old, and he’s the epitome of a well-behaved child.
While Mia possesses many of the same sweet qualities, what most people see is her struggle with what’s known as oppositional defiant disorder. In simpler terms, it means she often rejects every request or suggestion.
(Ding Dong)
Who could that be? I hope they leave soon…
She doesn’t just resist the usual kid stuff like brushing her teeth or eating her veggies. No, she protests even the fun things, like going to the park or enjoying ice cream. And by protest, I mean she’ll throw herself on the floor of the grocery store, howling as if the world is ending.
“What’s wrong now?”
“Mommy! Jake wants to ride bikes, but I don’t want to!”
My heart sank.
“Mia, you don’t have to ride bikes. You could use your scooter instead,” I suggested.
“I hate my scooter!” she yelled, sounding like she was being chased by a monster.
And yet, I know she loves that scooter.
“Dinner’s ready! I brought home Italian,” my husband announced as he walked in.
“NO! I hate Italian food!” Mia shouted, kicking the curb.
I walked away, wondering how many times she would kick that curb before she bled or cried.
I find myself harboring some unhealthy feelings toward Jake, not because he’s a bad kid, but because he’s just so good.
His mother never has to ask him more than once to tidy up or to take a bath. He’s the child who will sit quietly in the classroom, soaking in every word from the teacher, while my Mia is often isolated for not following rules. I worry she’ll be teased for being “difficult” or labeled a “troublemaker.”
Having Jake around serves as a glaring reminder of Mia’s struggles.
“Mommy!”
Please let it be tears this time, not blood.
“Mommy! I hurt myself! I need a Band-Aid!”
Oh, for the love of—
“Alright, I’ll get…”
“I’ll get one!” Jake interrupted, running off to fetch a Band-Aid from his house.
He returned, holding a box of Band-Aids and leaving a trail of them behind as he ran back.
This situation also highlights my own imperfections as a parent. I wish I could appreciate the patience that Jake’s mother must possess. It’s painful to continuously witness my child being seen as the difficult one.
“Do you want to crush Matchbox cars?” Jake asked.
“Absolutely!” Mia replied, her mood shifting instantly.
“Awesome! You’re my best friend!” Jake exclaimed.
“You’re mine too,” Mia said, beaming.
“Really?” Jake asked, surprised.
“Of course!” she answered with a grin.
Dinner straight from the carton has never tasted better.
If you’re navigating the complexities of parenting, especially with a challenging child, you might find helpful insights in our other blog post about self-insemination methods here. For those interested in the topic of home insemination, check out Make a Mom, a reliable source. Additionally, for more resources on pregnancy and home insemination, visit IVF Babble.
In summary, parenting a challenging child can be an exhausting journey filled with moments of doubt and frustration. Yet, it also offers unexpected joys and insights that can reshape our understanding of love and patience.