I. Am. Dramatic.
Always have been. Probably always will be. I wear my emotions on my sleeve, and most thoughts on my face.
Back in high school, when I was a freshman, a senior girl signed my yearbook and told me that I had a "fun, child-like quality about me" and that I should always keep it. I think I maybe took it too much to heart. My moods today are very much the same as they were back then. Quick, fierce and like that of a three-year-old.
I'm not good at hiding much of anything.
Which is fine, usually. Most of my friends and family are used to it. Typically, Charles deals with it like a champ.
But there's a new little person in my world, one who is VERY affected by just about anything I do. Can you guess who it is?
Yep. My Zoe.
I've been working hard on keeping my moods to myself lately, with minimal success. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get through putting Zoe to bed without snapping at least once. It's true that bedtime is currently frustrating, with multiple requests for the potty and for water and for Just One More Kiss...but I also know that it hurts her feelings when I snap. And all too often, that is the last thing she sees of me before she goes to sleep.
So, I'm trying. I'm aware of the problem and I'm trying SO HARD to correct it. I promise.
Of course, being an open book like me has other issues as well. For one, I tend to giggle a lot. Yesterday in the car on the way to school, Zoe wasn't behaving, so I took away her favorite car-toy, a Magna-doddle shaped like Elmo. She got SO MAD that she screamed at the top of her lungs for as long as she possibly could. It was so high-pitched, so shrill, that I think I felt like I was shot in the head. Have you ever seen Aliens? You know how Newt screamed? Same thing.
I know I should have behaved myself, kept quiet, even said a stern word or two...it was not ok behavior.
Instead, I cracked up. I couldn't help it. I found it so utterly hilarious that she'd screamed like that, that she's ruptured all our eardrums over a piece of red plastic, that I just laughed and laughed. Poor Charles had to dole out the discipline that time, and I think that's a trend in our house.
And then, sometimes my freak-outs can spawn Zoe freak-outs, so I'm working on that, too. Last weekend, when Zoe woke up from her nap, her right ear was filled with rusty, nasty goop. YUCK. I cleaned it out, trying hard not to get too grossed out, and decided to keep an eye on it.
Later that evening, she was not wanting to go to bed. When I checked on her at one point after she'd been fussing, she was rubbing at that ear. I leaned closer to her, and I could just smell something nasty. GROSS.
I called Charles upstairs, trying to keep my voice from shaking. I'm a big girl, I thought. I can handle this, whatever THIS is.
He brought me a q-tip, and I rubbed it around the yucky ear. It came away BRIGHT RED! Blood! Ohmigosh, ohmigosh, my baby's ear is bleeding, was all I could think at that moment in time. An "Ohmigosh" actually escaped my lips, and I know my face must have reflected my momentary panic.
Zoe started, looked scared, and opened her mouth to say something.
FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE, I got myself under control. "Oh, it's nothing baby," I said calmly. <Ohmigosh, ohmigosh, my baby's ear is bleeding...ohmigosh....> "Just an ear infection. We'll clean you up and you can go to sleep."
Calmly, collectedly, I cleaned the rest of her ear, lay her back down and tucked her into bed.
Then I calmly, collectedly went downstairs and CALLED THE DOCTOR'S WEEKEND SERVICE BECAUSE OHMIGOSH MY BABY'S EAR WAS BLEEDING!!!!!
It was just an ear infection. Nothing major. But at least in that moment...for once...I acted like a big girl.
Maybe I'm learning?
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