Samantha and I got in a big fight yesterday. She's been on this anti-mommy kick for the past week and it's really getting to me. She hits me and screams her head off and she's happy to cooperate with anybody but me. I know this is something children do with the person they are most attached to, and I've been telling myself that I won't take it personally, but still, at some level, I do. My patience is wearing thin and I'm getting angry with her much more quickly, which, of course, makes things worse.
Yesterday was not the worst of it, but it seems that it was the final straw for me. At some point in her tirade, Sam came around. I sat on the floor in front of her and I told her, "You've got to stop hitting me. I don't like it. Hitting hurts. It really hurts my feelings, too." And then I started crying. Bawling, actually. I realized that this was exactly what she needed to hear and see - that she was really hurting me with her actions. And she responded. She was contrite and probably a bit frightened. She said, HIT MOMMY. HURT. HURT MOMMY. CRY. MOMMY CRY. GET MOMMY TISSUE. And she ran upstairs and came back down with a tissue. One tissue. For me. It was almost worth all the pain of the past week just for that one moment.
No comments:
Post a Comment