Argue forever. Until you're blue in the face. Really. Please.

I put Ellie in the bathtub the other night.  Filled it with bubbles, handed her some toys, and sat down next to the tub.  She looked at me and giggled.

 

"You're a baby." Ellie

"Who's a baby?" Me

"You are."  Ellie

"No, I'm not, silly." Me

"Yes, you are!"  Ellie

(lots of giggles)

"Ha. I am not a baby.  You're a baby."  Me

"You're a baby!" Ellie

 

 

I laughed.  It was cute.  She's reached the age of debate.  This time it was cute.  There are other times where I must admit, I come close to pulling my hair out or hiding in a closet with a bottle of wine.  She argues a lot.  Of course, we knew she would.  She comes by it honestly.  We did (err... do) the same.

It can wear a parent out, but I am always baffled when I talk to other parents about it.

"Oh, I couldn't deal with that. I'd put an end to that quickly."

 

What?  Why?  I don't get it.  Why would you attempt to disarm a personality trait that could come in great use later in life?  Because it's tiring?  Or do you really think you're doing right by your child to not allow debate? 

I remember when I was a kid.  I argued.  All.the.time.  Ask anybody that knew me.  Some grown adults still won't have anything to do with me now thanks to the arguments I had with them as a child (Sorry guys, I promise I'm not such a pain anymore).  I think my mom has about 23 different books on how to handle 'the strong willed child'.  I was a force to be reckoned with.  Luckily for me, my parents figured out how to 'handle' me.  Luckily for me again, my parents weren't parents that wanted to 'put an end to that quickly.'

Instead of discouraging the fight, my parents encouraged the debate.  I wasn't allowed to talk back, but I was allowed to express my opinion, respectfully, even if it took me an hour to finally communicate it.  My parents questioned me.  They questioned my views.  They made me prove my point.  They taught me to pick my battles.  If I was going to fight, I'd better make sure whatever I was fighting for was worth it.

My parents encouraged and reinforced good morals and respect.  This helped out a lot when it came to making sure what I was fighting for was worth it, and it is the main reason I absolutely will not discourage the fight in my child(ren).  If Ellie fights with me today and I don't discourage her, but instead instill good morals and teach her what's worth fighting for, she'll fight with her friends tomorrow.  She'll fight for what's right.  She'll do what's right.  Even when I'm not there.  Even if her friends don't agree.  It's just going to take a lot of patience, effort, and prayer from me (us- the parents) and her. 

I pray I can do what my parents did.  I pray I can maintain my patience and understanding (and sanity and sobriety). I pray I can teach her what's worth fighting for... and what's not.  I pray that her arguments with me today help build a strong foundation for her tomorrow.  I pray that they keep her on the right path.  I pray I can develop her debate without killing her fight. 

I'm no parenting expert, but it just doesn't make sense to me to discourage debate with a child... especially when it's a natural trait in some children.  Make the extra effort, say some prayers (eat some chocolate or drink a glass of wine if you must), teach your child what the good fight is, and encourage them to fight it.

I can see the fight in my child every day, and I love it.  Even when it exhausts me.


I did it.

Apparently it's stomach bug season, and we've been hit.  Ellie's been throwing up the past few days.  She doesn't comprehend what's going on.  She just knows it sucks.  A true Southern Belle though, she handles it with grace.  Seriously. 

This is what she chose to do in between 'episodes' this weekend. 

 

 

She even picked the shade that best brought out the color of her eyes.

I'm such a proud Southern mom.  Ha.

I won't mention the fact that she snuck this adventure in while I was taking a shower and dad was away at work. 

 

Slight detour...

Back to the story... 

 

We've been trying to teach Ellie to throw up in a bucket.  Explaining upchucking to a 2 year old isn't easy.  Explaining why they should run for a bucket/toilet as soon as they feel that 'sick sensation' is even less easy.  But, this smart kid has it mastered.  To a T.  It's so pitiful.  Yet so precious at the same time.  Yes.  I just said puking a bucket was precious.  If you know Ellie, you'll understand.  Everything she does is precious.  Really.  I know I'm biased, but really.

 

We've developed a strategy:

She coughs. 

I come running with the bucket. 

She holds it until I get there. 

So far that works.  I know it's not fail safe. 

She leans over the bucket.

Success.

 

"I did it."

Cough. Cough.

Sniffle. Sniffle.

"I did it, Mommy."

 

The first time she said 'I did it', I had no idea what she said.  Then she threw up again and said it again.  I got it that time.  I was so proud.  She was so proud.  It cracked me up and brought a little light on the dark day.  It was funny.

 

Welcome to parenthood. 

Where puking is precious,

puking in a bucket is something you're proud of,

and 'I did it' is a sentence that can bring a laugh and brighten a day.

 

 

 

Now... to get her well... so she can feel better, we can feel better, 

and we can all laugh without there being any pain behind the funny...