A day in Hell
What kind of Hell, do you ask? The worst kind. The birthday party of one of Pookie’s classmates. 20-some-odd 5 year olds in a small restaurant, for two solid hours.
Pookie had a great time, until the last 15 minutes. That’s how long it took me to get her out to the car, kicking and screaming at me the whole time. Full-blown hysteria, including hyperventilation on her part. I’m sure some of the folks who weren’t at the party thought I was ripping her hair out, when I was really doing my damndest to get her to just stop screaming and breathe long enough to cool off.
Those of you who know me well know that I tend to stay away from places where there is going to be continuous loud noise – my hearing is such that I cannot tune things out, and the greater the noise, the worse my concentration gets. Well, when I have an armful of shrieking daughter, I simply cannot think.
Now, in her defense, Pookie is normally a very sweet little girl, and when she’s on her best behavior she can charm a roomful of child-haters. Every now and again, though, her inner demon comes forth and lays waste to the neighborhood in a manner that must be seen to be believed.
Dealing with these fits has been truly difficult for me, as all of the children I have had to deal with in the past (my son included) could be cowed by my voice. I always started out calm an reasonable, but when I started to raise my voice, they would knock off the nonsense and pay attention. (Hell, I have stopped people bent on violence mid-swing with my voice before.) Not so with Pookie – she seems extrordinarily immune to the ‘Voice of Doom’.
Maybe she’s immune because she is my child, but whatever the reason, it’s beginning to worry me. Maybe I can get her to start doing centering exercises to deal with her anger…
Hollerings