Hoarders: Six Year Old Edition

My child is a hoarder.

Every scrap of paper, every cheap plastic fast food kid's meal toy, every leaf and rock that she thinks looks cool, winds up in our apartment.  Now, keep in mind that I said apartment.  It's not exactly the biggest place in the world, and storage space is pretty limited - not to mention that she and I share a bedroom.  Two girls in one room is bad enough without adding fourteen tons of schoolwork, piles of rocks, and broken pieces of plastic spoons that apparently remind her of someone.

But, I've decided that sometime this summer, we are going through everything - and I mean everything - and tossing anything we don't use or need.  Clutter is the enemy of a happy, relaxed home, and I'm becoming increasingly frustrated with finding stacks of paper with one little squiggle drawn on each page laying all over the place, and wads of Moon Dough sticking out from under the coffee table.

I'm determined to get us clean and organized by the time that school starts in August, so that mornings can go off without a hitch, and no (more) library books are lost in the pit of toys we just haaaaaave to keep, but that haven't been played with in two years.

Who knows...maybe I'll find my lost sanity in there someplace...

The Rollercoaster

The year my daughter turned four was one of the most trying years we've had.  It was the first year I'd really seen a true tantrum, and the first time my daughter ever said she hated me.

Of course, at that age, they've really got no idea what hate is.  They just say it to be hurtful and to get under your skin; to assert their independence.  Even still, the first time those words came out of her mouth, I stepped into the restroom and cried my eyes out.  Hearing those words from someone who you've devoted so much of your time and love to hurts...even if you know they don't fully grasp the meaning.

But, after that first time, she said it quite a few more times.  Along with, "I want to go live with my dad!" which was equally, if not more hurtful.  But, we made it through that year, and as if by magic, her fifth birthday brought back the delightful, sweet child I'd known before.

And now, she's six, and all bets are off.  The past month has been filled with crying and tantrums a-plenty.  She's locked herself in the room for an entire day, without even eating.  She's thrown herself onto the floor and tried stuffing herself behind the couch.  She's cried and screamed, and though the h-word hasn't come out just yet, I'm halfway anticipating it.

The trouble is, I've got no idea why.  Is she just asserting her independence once more?  Is she sad or upset about something?  The only information she gives me when I ask her why, is that she misses her grandma...which makes no sense at all, in any of the situations.  I feel like it's just a cop out for something else that's bothering her that she doesn't want to mention for some reason.

She's also been obsessed with death lately.  She is always so concerned that her grandparents are old and going to die soon (they are only in their 60's and in decent  health, so it's not something anyone else is really concerned about)  She's also broken down crying, saying that she never wants to have a baby.  I haven't the slightest idea why she worries about these things, or why she cries all the time. 

We haven't had any major tragedies or life changes lately.  It's been nearly a year since her father moved to California (and she is aware that he is moving back VERY soon), and no one has had any real health issues.  The only death in the family we have had was a great aunt of mine who she barely knew.  I know that things can affect children in different ways than adults, and they often have a hard time expressing how they feel...but I wish I had some sort of key to unlock the WHY of her behavior.

I feel lost and helpless, which is a horrible thing to feel at all, let alone as a mother.  I feel like we're on this spiralling roller coaster, and the brakes have gone out, and even the emergency brakes aren't working.  It's hard to see when it will finally stop, or how.  It's a dreadful feeling.
But, I know this will blow over in time.  I've just got to stay strong, and pray for guidance and strength.

Momma's Got A Boyfriend

It's kind of funny how smart kids are.  You can try and sneak around behind their back, or be nonchalant about something, but they can read grown-ups like a book.  Sitting in the car yesterday with B and kiddo on the way to get snow cones, kiddo began singing "Momma's got a boyfriend, momma's got a boyfriend."  My face flushed red and I laughed nervously...because truly, honestly...I'm not sure if I do or not.

It's been a while since I've actually successfully dated.  It's something that I've actually been avoiding like the plague since kiddo was born, because a lot of guys my age are just not mature enough to handle dating a girl with a child.  They expect you to be able to drop whatever you're doing and go out for shots on a Wednesday night, or shoot, to be able to go out at all upon short notice.  Having a child means finding childcare, finding decent clothes that haven't been ruined by said child, and finding the energy to be perky and cute and talk about something other than iCarly for a few hours.  It was just something that I wasn't prepared to tackle...until B came along.

So, needless to say, I don't really understand all the nuances of dating just yet.  It's supposed to be like riding a bike, right?  Once you do it, you never just "lose" how.  Or, at least that's what I thought.  But I was horribly wrong.  Every date has been spectacular.  From the first dinner date where we sat and talked long after our waitress' shift had end and they'd locked the restaurant doors, to taking kiddo out (after several dates, just he and I...I am tough on who I let around the kiddo, after all) to the park, and earning her seal of approval after a trip to the custard shop. 

But here we are...two-ish months after that first date, and while we've spent evenings cuddled up on the couch playing games on his iPad, laid on the floor reading stupid books...we don't have a "title."  I guess it's not something I should be worried about, but I'd love to be able to call him something other than just "the guy I've been dating."  I want him to be my boyfriend.  I want to hold his hand and tell him stupid jokes that make him snort.  I want him to make me try more awful food (by the way, Thai is *not* a favorite.)  I know we can do all that WITHOUT the title, but something about making it "official" is something I long for so badly.  I want kiddo's song to be right, and I want to skip through the house like a dork and sing it myself at the top of my lungs.

I'll just wait it out, for now, though.  As much as I'd love those words of semi-commitment from him, I can be content with just being "the girl and guy who have been dating." 

But if I'm this bad now...I'm scared for my daughter when she comes to me for dating advice years down the road.

Maybe I'll just lock her in the room 'til she's forty.