Strong will

My sister and I have a long standing "joke" (but not really a joke, more a matter of fact statement) that we think God switched our daughters.  This started when my niece was born and we realized that Rabeka was a "girly girl".  She would prefer tea parties and high heels to tennis shoes and a game of basketball any day.  Shortly after Brooke was born and developed her affinity for everything tom boy (bugs, frogs, lizards, sweat, sports, etc) we were certain God had made a switch on us.  We lovingly say that this is God's way of continuing to make us appreciate each other and our differences. 

Now, more than ever, I am convinced God has some kind of a sense of humor.  Case in point was the introduction of our little Briana.  While she is definitely a girly girl, and looks 1000% like her daddy, she has a personality that mirrors my sisters.  About 6 months ago, I read "The Strong Willed Child" by Dr. James Dobson.  It's a good book, but I read it totally because I needed help. It gave me some tips, but more than anything else, it completely convinced me that Roger and I have a strong willed child.  And I don't mean a child who's a little stubborn.  I'm stubborn, Roger's stubborn, heck, my family might have written the book on stubborn.  Of course, all this furthers my belief that God gave me some of my sweet sister's traits in both of my children.  Let me explain:  I am a people pleaser.  In this respect alone, Brooke is more like me than Jenny.  I am, and always was, a compliant child.  Roger was a compliant child.  I would apologize and cry the second I got a stern look from either one of my parents.  I so hated disappointing them.  I learned quickly how to avoid spankings and groundings because I hated disappointing them.  Neither Roger nor I ever tried drugs of any kind, I took one drink of alcohol before I turned 21 and it was under the supervision of my parents (a beer) and really pretty much towed the line.  I should interject here that I am no saint and I did get in trouble, but nothing serious and I'm fairly certain both Mom and Dad would agree that I didn't make them lose sleep at night.  For the most part, I did what was expected and, honestly, it never occurred to me to venture too far outside of that.  I have no idea why. 

In reading this book, almost every page turn I would catch myself saying, "OHMYGOSH!  That's Briana.  AND JEN!"  Jenny has always been strong willed.  She's always marched to her own drum and she's always done what she wants, when she wants with caution thrown to the wind.  If she wanted to do it, there was, quite honestly, no consequence great enough to stop her from doing it and the flip side of that is that if she did not want to do it, there was no motivator great enough to make her do it.  This.is.Briana.  These are tremendous qualities for any person to have (and I don't want to kill the spirit of these qualities - God created her perfectly and these are part of what makes her perfect).  Heck, I envy that sense of strength and determination in a lot of respects and I've developed it a little as I've gotten older.  The problem comes in to play when you are a parent of one of these children.  The good news is I know this is Briana and she's only 3.  The bad news is I KNOW THIS IS BRIANA AND SHE'S ONLY 3!  I think Dr. Dobson may need to move in with us.

Monday, at school, Briana was given a crayon to write her name.  Since it was school work time and not free draw time, the rule on the color crayon is "you get what you get and you don't throw a fit"  Briana got a green crayon.  She refused to write her name because she didn't get a purple crayon.  She served her time in time out and got in all kinds of trouble (and, thank goodness, her teachers never caved and gave her a purple crayon) and still never did that exercise.  I know, you all laugh because this is typical 3 year old antics - ha, ha, ha.   Stick with me.

Yesterday, I pick her up from school and notice she has a black eye.  A conversation ensues between me and the teacher to which the two of us figure out that said black eye likely came from a fight she and a little boy had outside earlier in the day.  What started as a shoving match ended with a black eye (on Briana) and a nicely scratched up face (on the boy).  In the car ride home, I asked Briana why she and the boy got in a fight.  "I don't know."  I asked her at least half a dozen different ways to figure out why she scratched the boy and how she ended up with a black eye.  The girl stuck with her "I don't know" story (and, trust me, she knows - the girls has a memory like a steel trap).  Again, you are all laughing because she's only 3.  But wait - there's more!

This morning, Briana was putting her shoes on to go to school.  As I walked to the girls' room to check on them, I heard her sneeze so I said, "Bless you!"  To which she screamed, "DON'T TALK TO ME!"  So I told her to put her shoes on, it was time to go and I walked out of the room.  About 5 minutes later, I returned to see her still holding one shoe.  I told her to please put her shoe on because it was time to go and informed her that Brooke & I were going to give Daddy loves and head to school.  She screamed at me, "Well, I can't put my shoe on because you won't stop talking to me and you're not my friend!"  I asked her if I could help her put her shoe on and I got "STOP TALKING TO ME!" as a response.  see, now most of you are scratching your head and shaking it thinking "I would spank her bottom" or "That's an automatic time-out" and on and on because you don't have a strong willed child and compliant children respond to those things - Briana literally says, "ha ha!  That's funny!" when I spank her and is perfectly content to sit in a room by herself for upwards of an hour). So I left the room and told Roger good bye.  I stuck my head back in her room to tell her that we were going to school and to have a great day.  She screamed, "I'm going with you.  You're not leaving me!"  So she walked out to the car with her one shoe one.  We drove to school, after another screaming fit because I wouldn't put a barrette back in her hair that she had purposely pulled out.  Once we got to school, the fight was still on and ultimately ended with Brooke and I walking about 20 steps ahead of Briana, who was still carrying her one shoe, to get her to follow us so that she would not be in the drive of the school.  Yes, she ended up putting her shoe on - on her terms, in her time and probably only because I saw a friend's mom pull up while she was sitting on the steps outside of school and told her if she'd put her shoe on she could walk in with this friend.  Yes, I am the mother and I know that.  If you aren't shaking your head in understanding at my reaction, you, my friend are blessed with a mostly compliant child.  Hug them.  Kiss them.  And count your blessings.  I have one of those (thank you, Lord!)

So, like I said, does anyone have Dr. Dobson's number??  I need him to move in soon.  The prospect of the teenage years are making me have nightmares.