Playing the game.

I recently posted a status on Facebook saying, "The sooner I realize and accept that my children are in no way interested in making my life easier, the more ...resigned I will be. In a good way." I've been thinking about it ever since.

Since writing this status update, I've actually heard myself speak the words, "Sonja, can you please just (insert task here)? It would make my life so much easier right now." Needless to say, my plea does nothing to make my life easier; if anything the very act of saying this out loud increases my stress level. Feeling like a fool has never appealed to my ego and voicing such a vulnerable request serves only to hand over what little control I hope to gain in the given situation. In other words, having to ask for respect from a three-year-old child is akin to admitting you'll never get the respect you seek.


This isn't to say that Sonja can't be talked with about respect. We've spoken about it many times, but the timing has to be right. It has to be at a time when we are both feeling comfortable and happy; when talking and being together is enjoyable and easy. The moment I'm tense, Sonja knows it and all is lost unless I shove my nagging ego aside and work to right the ship. I'm a worse metaphorical sailor than I am a nautical one; I can likely count on one hand the number of times I've successfully saved the situation. 


And yet I've discovered a word that has given me some hope: "game". I've often felt at the mercy of a manipulation when things turn for the worse with Sonja. It's often seemed that she is egging me on somehow and even though I know I shouldn't fall for it, I totally fall for it to varying degrees. I've kicked myself for it many times and have vowed over and over to calm down and talk with Sonja about the situation instead of letting it get the best of me. And then one day, exasperated, I said to her, "Sonja, I don't like this game and I don't want to play it." Suddenly I felt like I had a foothold on my own sliding patience and the look on Sonja's face told me that she knew her jig was up.

At first I felt empowered, but I quickly realized that the last thing I wanted was for Sonja to feel badly, or worse, belittled. I took some breaths, got down to her eye level and explained as best as I could that I was losing my patience because I felt like she was playing a game that was designed to upset me. I struggled to talk with Sonja using language and concepts that she would grasp; finally I just said, "Your game was really frustrating me and I felt like it didn't bother you that I was getting upset. It would upset me a lot if you got upset, so please remember that." It was the best I could do at the time and I'm not sure she understood (or wanted to understand) completely, but since then I've used the word "game" quite a few times with Sonja and she knows right away that it means I'm trying to put an end to her tactic. The phrase "I don't want to play this game" has become a quick way to nip my rising frustration in the bud.


I don't think this is the perfect way of talking with Sonja or dealing with my frustrations, far from it, but it feels like a starting point. I'm hopeful that it will give me a place to start when I need to calmly explain my feelings to my daughters at a time when I may feel like screaming. Sonja is too lovely, smart and beautiful to deserve anything less than my best effort. As long as I can remember to breathe...