Parenting Without A License

Worth Waiting For

Posted by Kimberly on November 24th, 2007 — Posted in Diva Girl, NaBloPoMo

Diva Girl doesn’t do well with the concept of “ish.” She’s an all or nothing kind of kid–there are no shades of grey in her world. Specificity and routine are the keys to a happy Diva Girl, something that I know all too well and should have remembered today. I don’t know what I was thinking when I told her her friend’s mom would pick her up at noon for her sleepover today–especially considering that said mom is working on “newborn” time at the moment–but I suspect it had more to do with how I would fill all those glorious childfree hours than with the hours I would have to spend with said child leading up to the big event.

Needless to say, twelve o’clock came and the little timer in Sabrina’s head went “ding.” There was no reasoning with her using vagaries like “about” or “ish.” It was noon, and that meant that it was time for them to be here, period.

And thus began over two hours of utter hell. Not even Dante could have devised the pure torture that is Diva Girl, forced to wait for an unspecified amount of time. Imagine an unending game of “Are we there yet?” without the fun of an actual trip or any idea of exactly how long it’s going to be. This? Made that look fun.

My lack of patience with her impatience didn’t exactly help matters, either. I could have handled it so much better, been the supermom and done a craft or played a game or read a book to help pass the time. But I didn’t. I’d have been far better equipped to handle the grey period if I didn’t need this break as much as she did, but the truth is, I’ve been feeling pretty burnt out lately. I find myself being snappish when I don’t mean to be, and less fun than I want to be. It’s been a while since I had a chance to recharge my mom batteries, so instead of just rolling with it I was crabby, feeling the knots all down my spine pull a little tighter each time she asked when they would be here or if they were here yet. I wanted to miss her, I was looking forward to missing her, but the fact that she continued to just be there, chattering in my ear, whining and speculating about the delay, well, I wasn’t missing her.

Sitting here, seven hours after she finally got picked up, at least sixteen hours before I expect her home, I miss her. Funny how that goes, eh?