Act Your Age

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The scene isn’t a special circumstance, it isn’t something out of the blue and it happens at least once a day. Picture with me a sassy, four-year-old little girl. A fireball with a stomping foot and arms crossed over her little body. An emotional wreck with a voice that only seems to be able to whine and tears that can start at the drop of a hat. A stubborn minded child with selective hearing who favors the word NO. Inevitably, at least once a day, I say the same phrase: You are four-years-old. Act like it.

Nothing was special about this day, but for some reason as those words were coming out of my mouth, like a record on repeat, something clicked: she is acting her age.

It is hard for me when I look at her to see the little girl she truly is. She is, developmentally, the oldest. Her twin brother is at least 12 months behind socially and emotionally. Her little brother is only seven months old. I subconsciously expect more of her and it is not fair of me to do.

After I left her room, I really began to reflect upon what I was asking of her. I ask her to keep her room clean when her brothers’ look like a hot mess. I get on her if I step on a toy (LOL dolls and Hatchimal Collectables are no joke to a barefoot) but will simply kick her twin’s hot wheels aside. I see red if she has an accident because I know she is doing it for attention; but both her brothers get their diapers changed, why shouldn’t I help her change her outfit? I ask her to keep a quiet voice if the baby is sleeping but don’t bat an eye if her brother is shrieking his head off for no apparent reason.

If she doesn’t listen the first time, I raise my voice the second. Neither of her brothers are capable of following directions yet. So, when I say the dreaded phrase, I really am implying, “Act older than you really are.”

Maybe I want just one child that is independent and doesn’t need me to help them with every little thing; maybe I want just a minute without three kids attached to my hip. And the reality is, I have that. She is a spunky little girl who can entertain herself in her room for hours on end. She gets me diapers and helps pick up the living room. When either of her brothers are upset, she will go get their comfort blankets without being asked. Her heart is bigger than I could ever imagine, and she can voice independently what she needs. But when she throws her fits, I forget all the amazing qualities she has; I am reminded she has her faults too—like all children do.

I forget she is learning how to function in this big world. I forget she is learning how to handle all these big emotions she is dealt on a daily basis. I forget all the big things she handles like a pro so, of course, she is going to test waters and break down. She exhausts herself.  

As a mom, I need to do better. I need to think about what I am asking her. When I get angry, I need to step back and breathe before spewing words that I cannot take back. We need to talk about what a four-year-old should look like…. how she is the spitting image of one.

Special thank you to today’s guest blogger: Steffanie Enderle

I am a mom of three wonderfully crazy and amazing children and a wife to an incredible woman. When I am not being a personal chauffeur to preschool, therapies, gymnastics classes, and play date; I work part time with individuals who have multiple disabilities in an outstanding care facility. My hobbies are eating ice cream and taking naps – neither of which I ever get to do alone!

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