I’m a Meanie-Pants

 

I’m a meanie-pants. Just ask my daughter. She’ll be more than happy to tell you what a bad mom I am, and how much she hates me. Really. You’d think she was fifteen instead of five some days.

We were driving home last night from an evening with friends. It was a long drive and about an hour or so after her bedtime. We asked her to try to close her eyes and try to go to sleep. It had been a long day and she hadn’t slept well the previous night. (I believe that’s what experts refer to as “grumpy-pants.”)

This simple request was followed by nearly an hour of screaming:

“I’m getting OUT of this family! I’m going out in the dark to walk and walk and find a NEW family. I know you will miss me, but I am NEVER coming back. EVER!”

Even when we got home and put her to bed, she continued her tirade after I told her she might want to sleep in her nice warm bed first, before she went out walking in the cold looking for a family:

“I’m NEVER going to sleep. And I’m NOT going to play with you again!”

She did, of course, eventually go to sleep, and was already asking me to play with her this morning and begging to snuggle. So I guess she slept some of it off or maybe just forgot who I am?

I confess she’s right though; I am a meanie-pants. I expect my daughter to get enough rest, eat food to stay healthy, and to play nicely with others. And apparently that makes me the biggest meanie-pants in the world. I think that might also make me a good mom (despite her vociferous objections), and I think if “meanie-pants” equals “good mom” then I’m okay with that.

All things considered, I hope to always be the best meanie-pants I can be for my daughter. She’s kinda stuck with this family anyway. The judge said so.