When I used to read stories of children in dire situations (which, of course, I am obsessively drawn to), I would think that M and E would not be able to handle it. Now, for some reason--age? their demonstrated capacity for so much?--I think they could. If, by circumstances of history, geography, or economy, I had to work and we had no childcare, they would be able to care for themselves, and even for younger children. If, god forbid, by similar circumstances, they were orphaned with nobody to care for them, they would care for each other and manage, however horrifically. (Even my sick imagination refuses to take me any farther than that.)
M has started having tantrums again. Not as bad as last year, and I'm not even sure whether they are actual tantrums. We call them fits. Something will set her off, and there will be wails and tears and stomping and door-slamming and much screaming of "NO!" and "You hate me!" and the like (interesting, I suppose, that she rarely, if ever, says "I hate you!"; rather she triangulates, in what might be a somewhat ominous way--any child psychiatrists out there?).
I was thinking, last night, as her fit went on and on--and, unfortunately, there were many comical moments, so S and I were not doing a very good job of hiding our amusement, which surely did not help matters--that if she were responsible for five younger sisters, or if she had to pick garbage to make money for food for herself and E, she probably would not have such fits.
It was just an observation--no judgement, no analysis--but it was kind of interesting. And I suppose, perversely, it makes me happy that she has the kind of life where she can have fits.
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2 comments:
that's an interesting way of thinking about it. They're definitely a luxury, as you note. We had a period of "fits" last fall with Nick, who's 9, and they were all about things he really likes to do but just didn't want to at the moment (like go to tae kwon do) or knows he has to do, non-negotiably, but still resists on principle (like take a shower). They were both funny and maddening in about equal part, and they were all about privilege. Hmm.
Regarding the "You hate me"s. With my Middle son, I had the exact opposite, which is to say he would only say, "I hate you." I figured out that his great fear was that I hated him when we were made at each other and once I asked him if he was afraid of that, he agreed and never said it again.
It might be useful to help her learn to express her anger, yes maybe even hatred, toward you in words. If she could do that, she might not need to act out quite as much and it could nip the "woe is me, my mother hates me" stuff in the bud.
Re: what a different childhood might look like. See Lord of the Flies.
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