Midwest Vs. East Coast

Last night Marcus and I got into a debate about whether it would be appropriate for a 15-year-old to hang-out and spend time with an 8-year-old.  I am of the opinion that, and no matter the sex of the person, a 15-year-old has no business playing with an 8-year-old unless I am paying them to do so (i.e. babysitting...I realize that sounded funny).  Marcus did not agree.  He claimed that as long as the child is of good character their age is of little importance.

We went 'round and 'round, both of us stuck on our main issue.  I was adamant that any 15-year-old who does not have friends of their own age might have developmental or psychological issues that could affect a younger child.  He did not follow.  Finally, exasperated, I asked him exactly what he was doing at 15-years-old to which he replied "I don't know.  Catching frogs, building forts..." Aha!  And there we had it.  While Huckleberry Finn was growing up, innocent in the Midwest, I was on the East coast behaving like your more typical 15-year-old:  Daydreaming about boys, reading "Seventeen" magazine, and possibly  definitely already having had my first sip of alcohol.

I'm not sure if we really concluded the debate except that we both agreed we lived two very different lives prior to meeting each other.  I just hope he doesn't expect our girls to be building forts at 15.

Alex Says...

I've been meaning to write down some of the things Alexandra says.  She's been cracking us up lately with her smart responses and ideas on how the way things work.  Alex is a very serious little girl and oftentimes will tell us information with such conviction that we wonder if what she's saying is true.  She recently told us that there was a certain type of horse that only came out at night and as she told us with such a straight face we thought for a brief second she just might be right.

The other day I heard her trying to play a game with her little sister called "Jesus and God."  My ears perked up when I heard this and started paying attention.  While we do go to church we don't often discuss God or Jesus so I was curious to hear her rendition.  Essentially, she wanted Josephine to be God and to lead her, "Jesus," on the donkey.  Josephine wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of playing God and she kept telling her sister so.  However, Alex being her usual level of bossy, finally led an exasperated Josephine to say "I don't want to be God.  God is turning into Elsa."  That was the end of "God and Jesus" as interpreted by Alexandra.

One day recently we passed an old cemetery and Alex asked what it was.  I explained to her that when people die they sometimes like to be buried underground in a cemetery.  For whatever reason I then felt it necessary to tell her my and Marcus's wish when we die.  I said to Alex "When mommy and daddy die we want you to turn us into diamonds" to which she replied "But mommy, I don't know how to do that!"  I laughed and said "Well, no, I know that.  We want you to pay someone to do it" to which she then replied "But I don't have any money!"  I was blown away by her logic and only slightly disturbed by her lack of concern at the thought of mommy and daddy one day dying.

On the way home one evening, all four of us in the car, I was talking to Marcus about watching the movie Ghostbusters and how scary it was.  I mentioned that if Alex had woken up and seen some it she might have been scared.  This immediately peaked her interest and we soon had twenty questions hurtling our way about a movie she had no concept of.  When I told her that I didn't think she was old enough to watch the movie because it had scary ghosts in it she said, in all seriousness, "I'm not afraid of any ghosts" which naturally started a fit of laughter in the front of the car despite the fact she was not aware of how ironically funny her statement was.

Unlike most women, I do not believe that becoming a mother has made me a better person.  I scream, I curse, I experience intense feelings of rage, and I fall into depressions.  I feel guilty every waking moment that I'm not being the person I should be for my children.  I don't do arts and crafts with them, I don't bake or cook with them, I hardly teach them anything at all.

Lately, a good day has been waking up, feeding them at least twice a day, and enforcing naptime with an iron fist.  Neither of my girls knows what its like not to have a mommy who yells and screams at them; who constantly threatens with swats on the bottom, time-outs, or the removal of a beloved item.

I've come to realize the oldest is scared of me.  She had a potty accident at the store one evening and told her dad not to tell mommy.  My anger and inability to control it has clearly affected her and I don't know how to change it.  When every move as a mother is imparted as a lesson for the children it occurs to me that I'm failing miserably as my children have learned nothing but fear and how to scream at each other rather than talking calmly when conflict arises.

This is not to say that my love for my children isn't strong.  I know that somehow, despite my failures, they do know I love them and we share tender moments sporadically through the day.  I meet their needs as best I can.  I just don't know if my best is good enough.