So Mean

She muttered that as she huddled in a sulky corner of the car last night on the three mile drive from my mom’s house to home.

See, I’d made Alyssa put her pants back on and then pack up her crap so we could go home.

When I get to my mom’s house at 5:00 each evening, it is understood that Alyssa will be allowed to watch the 5pm episode of Wild Kratts on PBS while my mom and I catch up. Then, when Wild Kratts is over at 5:30, we go home.

Last night, though, when Wild Kratts ended, Saddle Club started and Alyssa decided that since I hadn’t made the move to leave, she’d get to stick around and watch the show.

Let me take a moment to point out that these shows are on PBS. We happen to get PBS as well as my mom does. It’s not like they were one some cable channel that we don’t get (we don’t have cable, how’s that for mean?)

When I saw that she’d taken off her pants so she could run around like a horse, I told her to put her pants back on because we were leaving.

She whined that she was watching Saddle Club.

I reminded her that if she got ready fast enough, she’d only miss a few minutes of it as we made our way home.

She fought me for fifteen minutes, finally stomping around my mom’s house like a three year old who was throwing a tantrum.

Once I managed to get Olivia and Alyssa and Alyssa’s pissy little attitude in the car, I was done with the fussing. I told her I was sorry she felt like I was being unfair but that this was our routine and I just wanted to get home.

She hissed, “You’re mean!”

And usually, I just shrug that sort of thing with a laugh and tell her that it’s okay that she thinks so because it means I’m doing my job. But last night? It made me angry. It also hurt my feelings because I feel like I usually bend over backward to make sure this kid is happy.

And there, that right there? Is probably the problem. She’s used to getting her way. She’s used to me giving in because I usually don’t care enough to fight her.

But she’s nine years old (will be next in nine days, anyway) and she needs to realize that the world isn’t going to always give her her way.

I don’t want to raise a child who grows into an adult with a sense of entitlement. I want her to know that hard work and perseverance can go a long way toward getting her what she wants but the world in no ways OWES her anything.

My step daughter believes the world owes her an easy life. I have a cousin who believes the world owes him a good life because he feels he had a shitty childhood. Well, you know what? A lot of people have shitty childhoods and they don’t think they’re owed anything because of it. They pull themselves up and make something of their lives through hard work.

And while I don’t want Alyssa to struggle, I’m coming to realize that if I love her (which I do, to the depths of my soul) I need to tell her no more often. I need her to realize that I’m not being mean when I make her pick up after herself or when I don’t let her have exactly what she wants for dinner or when I make her turn off the television because she’s already watched too damned much tv for one day, thank you very much.

It’s time to start parenting this child. She needs it from me, whether she knows it or not. And yes, whether she likes it or not. Someday, she’ll thank me for not letting her turn into a spoiled brat. I hope. But if not? Well, sometimes, even the best of parents aren’t appreciated but that’s okay too. I’ll take comfort in knowing I did the best I could.