on frustration.

Totally unrelated to anything in the post, except this was cute- M was cooking on the BBQ outside the door, and Willow was cooking at her pretend BBQ inside. Sometimes, I really, really need to remember the cute stuff.

(So, this is a post written in a bad mood, so don't leap to conclusions that I'm cracking up or anything. But it's also written because it's a slice of what my life is like rightnow, and since I live with a three year old in a dunp of a town, I get frustrated. Normally I try to share the nicer slices of life on this blog, but for the sake of accuracy and keeping it real, sometimes I get really, really frustrated with Willow and other stuff. Monday I'll post charming photos of our trip to Nelson Bay and the three of us feeding sharks and rays. Promise.)

Three year olds are really, really big on contradiction. Within the past hour as I cooked dinner (a new dish that required a degree of multi-tasking, concentration AND A HOT WOK SPITTING MUSTARD SEEDS EVERYWHERE WHY DIDN'T THE RECIPE SAY "Ok, dry fry the cashews. Then, let the saucepan COOL DOWN before you add the mustard seeds, otherwise they'll EXPLODE like fireworks"), Willow has whinged that she's not hungry, she's hungry, she's not hungry, she just wants milk in a cup with a straw, mum, get me my milk already, no I'm not HUNGRY I DON'T WAAAAANT DINNER. IT'S TOO SPICY I DON'T LIKE IT. I'M NOT HUNGRY. I JUST WANT MILK.

Another example.
"I don't want to go outside. I want to go outside. NOW. I want to ride my scooter. I don't want to ride my scooter. NO DON'T PUT IT AWAY I WANT TO RIDE IT. I want to take one guinea pig out and play with him in my room. I want Mr Leda. I DON'T WANT MR LEDA I WANT MR FRODO."

Another example.
Big W has surprisingly nice bits of fabric in the craft area. Seriously- they have a lot of Robert Kaufman and other "better than you get at Spotlight" brands/ designers. (No Amy Butler yet, sadly.) Last time I went there they had Dr Seuss fabrics in among all the Little House on the Prairie florals. Anyways, last time we were there, Willow picked up three fabrics and asked me to make her a skirt. Since they were actually quite nice (unlike the hot pink star one that she wanted me to turn into a skirt) I agreed. She carried the three fabrics all through the store, we paid for them, we took them home, I let her select other fabrics to blend in, I sewed until midnight then spent the next day sewing so it was all ready and waiting for her when she got home from childcare.
Then she got whiny and annoying because her skirt didn't have any stars in it.

I sent Willow to her room  shortly after dinner, because she wasn't sitting properly and she knocked over her water. Just like I warned her would happen. Then I lay on the couch and tried to calm down. Then Willow stuck her head out of her bedroom and was all "Mummy, your washing machine is beeping. Hang out the washing."
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh.

Sometimes adding to the frustration is life in Smalltown. There at lots of really nice things about living here. But there are lots of shitty things too. Like, I found drugs at the playground, so another mother buried them in the sand pit since she had no idea what to do with them. Weirdly, I forgot all about it until yesterday, because hey, that's why life in Small Town does to you- you get all "Drugs in the playground? I guess it could be worse. Meh."

Then there's Other Parents Who Are Weirdly Hostile. My neighbor insists on keeping to herself, which is fine and all. I mean, it's her right to privacy and what not. It just really, really bothers me because Willow will knock on her door, calling for her son who we just saw peering out the window at us a minute earlier, asking if he wants to play with her- and she won't answer the door. Willow's played with her son exactly once, when she was out washing her car, and Willow behaved beautifully. So it's not Willow's behavior. Is it me? Do I have BO? Why do you refuse to let your son play with Willow? We're neighbors, after all, and he had a wonderful time with her last time.
There's a lady who lives around the corner with a son. Sometimes when we walk past he runs to the front door and says hello to us and chats to Willow. Then his mum notices and screams at him to get away from the door. So he does.
There's another house with three girls- two older than Willow, and one the same age. We were walking past and they rushed to the gate to chat to us. They asked if Willow could come in and play with them, and I said yes, if their mother said she could. They ran off to ask their mother, who apparently said yes. I went inside the front gate and then lingered awkwardly. The mother didn't come out to great me or anything- I could see her chatting to a friend- so I wasn't going to start walking around her yard without meeting her. So I awkwardly waited.... and waited... and waited. Eventually she walked up to me. I smiled, said hi, introduced myself and Willow, to which she said "I don't normally make a habit of inviting people in off the street," and walked off.

Willow doesn't understand why she can't go to people's houses to play. They are near us, so we walk past them a bit. She gets on really well with the other kids- she plays well, and makes a huge effort to behave perfectly. She begs and begs, and what can I tell her? I tell her we're not invited, and she asks why. I try saying they're not home, but she sees that their car is there. I saw they're away, or sleeping, or working, or at school...

So that's that. Happily, Willow has made friends at childcare- I think Dakota with the pretty dark hair is her best friend now. Or maybe Dakota is the only girl there whose name Willow knows? I don't know. But I often see them reading books together or dancing to Psy together.