No!

I wrote this a few years ago ... but it still works!

“A, if you want to wear that t-shirt to school, you have to wear a sweatshirt, too, because it’s cold outside.”  

The reply comes in a matter of seconds: “No.”  She responds with the confidence of a politician.  I smile at her clear and direct tone.  

“Yes, you need the sweatshirt; I don’t want you to be too cold.”  

A deep sigh and then, “Okay,” she tells me.  It is as though she knew she’d wear it all along but still had to tell me no.  

Out of sheer curiosity, I counted the number of times A said “no” to me in the last hour and was astonished (but not really) to learn that the number was fifteen.  That is essentially once every three minutes.  She’s two.  I’m sure most readers would have guessed that by now.  

Intellectually, I know these exchanges are normal and that I should be consistent and calm in my approach.  I know that the way I respond to her will lay the groundwork for so many things in her life and our relationship.  I know it’s not personal when she refuses help and attempts to do the opposite of everything.  But she really drives me crazy sometimes. 

According to John Medina, a developmental molecular biologist and author of Brain Rules for Baby, preschoolers require attention 180 times an hour.  That seems about right to me - although I guarantee I never imagined that could be possible when I was pregnant with her, or in the early days after she came home from the hospital and we would nap contentedly together on the couch.  How is it possible to need attention at least once every twenty seconds?  At first, that statistic was funny to both me and my husband.  After thinking about it, though, it starts to feel intimidating.  It could be wonderful to have a happy exchange so frequently with my child.  But it could be troublesome, too.  When I’m tired or cranky or just having a bad day it is possible that three times every minute I am that short-tempered, unreasonable, illogical, mean mother I never want to be.  That’s a lot of pressure.

This business of parenting is hard and full of contrast.  I don’t want a brat but I don’t want to stifle her.  I don’t want her to think that by screaming she can get what she wants, but I don’t want her to be afraid to stand up to me, either (in the rare instance when I am wrong).  I don’t want to be hard on myself when things don’t seem to be going well, but I don’t want to become lazy in my parenting and assume that she will always be okay.  I want to do everything my parents did with and for me, but I don’t want  to do everything my parents did with or for me.  What if everything I am doing feels right, but turns out to be wrong?  

Fortunately for me (and A), on most days I think we are okay.  Despite all of the information and people out there who offer opinions on “best” parenting practices, much of what seems to work for me comes from instinct.  If it doesn’t feel right to me, it won’t feel right for her, either.  If I’m feeling like too much of a meddling mother, I probably am.  If it feels like A is getting away with too much, she probably is.  If I am happy in my world, then she will be, too.  At least I hope so.

I look back into the living room and see A banging on the front door to go outside (and yes, she is wearing the sweatshirt).  “I am ready to go!” she tells me.

“Okay, let me get your sister’s hat and then I’m ready, too!” I tell her.

“No!” she chants back.  

I laugh out loud but don’t respond.  I look down at her new sister and say, “You would never do that to me would you?”  She coos and gurgles.  “You know,” I say to her, “by the time your sister stops saying no all of the time, you will probably take over where she leaves off.”  She laughs and smiles innocently.  I hear A calling from the other room.  This business of parenting really is hard, but would I have it any other way?  No.