Poor, Poor, Me

In our family story, Kate is known as our “surprise baby”. You see, I was 23 weeks pregnant before we learned (much to our utter and complete SHOCK) that we were expecting twins. Until then, for FIVE months, we had planning and dreaming about our first baby… but to find out we had TWO on the way was mind blowing.

It seemed that Joan, or “twin A” as she was dubbed, was there all along and that on that life-changing day in October 2002, Kate suddenly and unexpectedly joined her in my womb.
Not exactly how it went, I know, but that’s how it seemed.

So my surprise baby. The best and most life-changing surprise I’ve ever received. Her first few days she was red faced and scream-y, but she quickly realized her true nature: sweet, cuddly, and loving. She’s a sensitive girl, always worrying about things, most especially other people.
She’s also the family animal lover and spiritual leader. Animals love her too. She talks more about God and heaven than any of the rest of us, and she has since she started speaking.
HOWEVER. Lately she’s been in this phase of POOR ME. NOBODY LOVES ME. Everything everyone does is a direct and purposeful INSULT directly pointed at her. If you are Kate, life is EXTREMELY UNFAIR, ALL THE TIME.
To say that this drives me crazy is true. But I also just want to help her STOP telling herself that the whole world is against her. She takes the tiniest affront and turns it into something disproportionate. While some things are unfair, she mostly is making herself miserable.
It’s exhausting to watch, to listen to, and mostly to parent. At every turn, some little thing turns her into a puddle of tears and woe and some kid-like version of WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE.
The girls like to “write songs” and then sit at the piano and “play” them: the plunk out a tuneless tune while singing the lyrics they have written. (Um, ya think they should be put in piano lessons, like, YESTERDAY? Yeah, I suck.)
So anyway, I found this “song” sitting at the piano this morning. (Kate’s standard “pretend name”, when she plays the Piano Game, is Angel):
Nobodey likes me
No
body
likes
me
beecas
my
name
is
a
diying
werd
it
is
angel
(translated: nobody loves me because my name is a dying word it is angel)*
Um????
First, I got goosebumps, because a 6 year old child wrote this. Perhaps I’m just doing that mommy thing where we think our kid is SO GIFTED, but I *do* think that there is something poetic and haunting about what she wrote.
But, more importantly, how can I help her?
Motherhood is hard. Gah.
*It just occurred to me that perhaps these are REAL lyrics to a song (like some Miley Cyrus bullshit that I am ignorant to)????? Anyone??
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5 thoughts on “Poor, Poor, Me

  1. I just found you via Swistle so I feel kind of awkward jumping in here with a comment but your girl reminds me so much of mine and I wondered if you have read the book Strong Willed Child Or Dreamer? It helped me so, so much with my daughter. If that is way off track just ignore me and know that I loved both her song and your CSA farm tour. 🙂

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