Exploring Womanhood > Journals > Growing Together: A Journal From Mother to Daughter > Entries

Entry #5 ~ April 9, 2002
~ "Mine!"

Dear Charon,

You're getting older and wiser, my dear. You have strong opinions, and you can be stubborn about them. You often surprise me with the strength of your feelings, and you also delight me at times with your gentleness and kindness to others. You have no trouble expressing what you want and need; you've always been good at that.

You are generally very good-natured, and very easy-going. You used to despise diaper changes; it took lots of coaxing and creativity to get you to agree to it. Now you tell us when you need one, and lay down to read a Babybug magazine while we get the job done.

There are certain songs we can sing, and only at certain times. If I launch into a song you haven't approved first, you tell me, quite frankly, "No song, Mom." (I sometimes think you even roll your eyes at me - "'Raindrops on Roses'? Mom, you're such a dork!") Usually, "Happy Birthday," "ABCs" and the Maisy mouse theme song are okay, but sometimes you even veto those: "No 'appy bir-tay, no aybeecees, no Maisy." One day, you started singing the ABCs, but inserted a "no" into every pause: "No A B C D, no E F G, no H I rice-cake, no anamano P.."

When you get really upset with me, you usually holler at the top of your lungs, "No, Mom, no!" and then you add a quiet, "Sorry, Mom," as an afterthought.

When things get too noisy or too chaotic, or when no one is paying attention to you, you always make sure we know you're not happy about it. Today at the grocery store, we heard some kind of coffee grinder going in the deli area, and you asked me about it: "What's that, Mom?" giving me a look that said, "What do they think they're doing, making a racket like that?" I explained what I thought it was, and you said, "Too noisy. Too much noise, Mom." I think you expected me to find whoever was responsible for it, and let them know that Charon was on the premises. ("You know our Charon; she's ultra-sensitive to annoying sounds. Could you please stop that? I'm sure you understand.")

You are usually gentle with people and things, but last night I had to tell you not to throw your fireman's hat - "Too heavy to throw! Try something soft, like that scarf." - and then you proceeded to throw all of the scarves you have across the room. You are still learning how to pet Clyde, my friend Nancy's cat. I'm glad Clyde is a patient teacher. You do great until I think you've got it, and then you start patting him a little too enthusiastically, or reach for his tail. Then I say, "All done. Say good-bye to Clyde now," as I give you a hug so that you have to stop.

The other day at the library, a little girl came over to see what book we were reading together. When you were younger, you'd be fine with this. This time, you immediately panicked, thinking she was going to pull the book out of my hands and run off with it, I suppose. You pushed her away - not very roughly, but with a frown on your face and an insistent, "No." I said, "Hey, we don't push people. Let's be nice. Will you say, 'I'm sorry' now, Charon?" And you did. And then you even let her listen in on the rest of the story.

A couple of weeks ago, a friend of mine stopped over with a little boy your age. You'd met him before, but it had been awhile since we'd gotten together. You were tired and ready to nap, but I was keeping you up so that we could all play together. When they came in, I said, "Isaac and Haidee are here to play with us today," and that was all it took to send you over the edge. "Mine! Mine!" you yelled, and started crying. My friend and I tried everything we could think of to help you to handle it, but nothing worked, so we thought we'd better try again another day. She told her son they had to leave, and then he got upset (understandably!), so I got him a treat to take home - Winnie the Pooh fruit snacks. You saw him eating them, and wanted some, too, which surprised me because you'd never dared to taste these before, just played with the little characters like they were toys. We sat there, you on my lap, Isaac on Haidee's lap, and everyone was suddenly quiet and content. Haidee and I looked at each other in astonishment, then smiled, then cautiously started chatting again. They ended up staying another hour, and you were surprisingly good at sharing your toys, after that crazy start to our play-date.

Today, I overheard you playing with your Scooby-Doo dolls. The five members of the mystery gang were arguing with each other: "Mine." "No, mine." "No, mine!" I stopped what I was doing to listen. I wanted to see if they could resolve this dispute on their own.

Suddenly, with no warning, they were saying, "Thank you," "Thank you," to each other, and then, "You're welcome." I thought maybe you saw me peeking, but then realized you hadn't. Everyone shared their toys, and then, finally, there were five, "Goodbyes," and five, "I love yous." ("I - yehv - you! I yehv you! I yehv you!..)

You are so sweet, honey. What a nice person you are. Thank you, and I love you!
Mom