The Transformation Begins

I think most of us live our lives wondering if we will one day turn into our mothers (or fathers). For better or worse, it does seem to happen to the best of us, so the question then is when? The answer in my case is, apparently, when your child turns two and a half years old.

In the last month, Lilly has begun fully embracing her tw0-ness and quickly and abruptly entered The Age of “Why?”.  I just as quickly and abruptly became my mother. Phrases like “because I said so” and “because I’m the boss” began pouring out of my mouth (and, to be fair, Elliott’s also).

I have to admit that this was one of those phases of motherhood that I completely underestimated. Before this last month, I heard many a mother complain about the incessant “whys” of their children and wondered what the big deal was. It was cute. Better yet, it shows intelligence. What is better than a curious child? What a privilege to teach a willing student! I cringe to think this now, but I even looked forward to hearing Lilly question me and all of her surroundings. Silly me. Live and learn, live and learn.

What I didn’t anticipate was the completely nonsensical and utterly cyclical line of questioning that comes with this inquisitive period. I was fully prepared to answer (and google, when necessary) all varieties of questions on nature, mechanics, biology, human relationships, and any other topic you might see pop up on Jeopardy!. Frankly, I’m still good with those topics. It’s the questions without answers that get to me.

Case in point. This was the conversation I had with Lilly last night as I fished a piece of hot dog out of her milk.

Now don’t drop another hot dog or any other food in your milk.

Why?

Because it’s bad manners.

Why?

Because it is.

Why should I not drop hot dog in my milk?

Because I’m not getting it out next time.

Why?

Because if you don’t want hot dog in your milk, don’t put it in there.

Why?

Because I said so.

Why you said so?

Because I did.

What is ‘because I said so’?

It means the answer to the question why is because I told you so.

Why?

Because I’m the boss, Lilly.

[Lilly drops green bean in her milk.]

And then there was the highly intellectual conversation we had leaving the pediatrician’s office the other morning as I was putting Lilly into her carseat.

Is this our car?

Yes.

It is?

Yes, this is our car.

Is that our car? [pointing to the car next to us]

Nope.

Why?

Because this is our car.

Why?

Because it is.

Why?

Because we bought this car, not that one. [quickly closing the car door before the next why.]

It’s kind of funny. Until you’re on your 8th hour of the day this way. So I’m sorry to say, I am now one of those mothers, like my own, who resorts to the use of “because I said so” on a daily, if not hourly basis.

Worse still, I have also adopted a phrase from my mother that was the bane of my existence in childhood: “we’ll see.” She wasn’t fooling anybody with her “we’ll see” to my every “Mom, I want a ______.” We both knew the deal: “We’ll see” = “no”. Plain and simple. But, I admit, I see it’s appeal now. It leaves just enough possibility open to end the whining and begging — sometimes. Well, at least with a toddler who hasn’t quite caught onto the ruse.

I suppose a simple “no” would be more forthright, but it also elicits an all-out meltdown. And, in my defense, there often is a possibility that I will grant Lilly’s request even after my initial “we’ll see”, but not always, and it’s not always a good possibility. But, we’ll just have to see, won’t we?

Then there’s the physical transformation into my mother. Not only do I hear her words coming out of my mouth now, but I’m acting like her also. I can remember complaining to my mom as we crossed streets because her method of holding my hand was more of an arm-twist that one might encounter in a mugging. I couldn’t understand how this was keeping me safe when it felt like my hand was about to crumble into a million pieces and my wrist was about to snap.

Now? Makes perfect sense. I find myself doing the exact same thing to Lilly every time I’m holding her hand in a parking lot or crossing a street. Broken hand? Arm in a splint? I can live with that. Hit by a car? Absolutely not! Not on my watch!

And I’m only navigating the relatively minor traffic of parking lots and side roads in Louisville, Kentucky. My poor mom was dragging me across major boulevards in Queens, N.Y. If our roles were reversed Lilly might find herself in a sleeper hold as I sprinted across the street. Sure, it might cut off oxygen to her brain temporarily, but she’d get to the other side of street. And that’s what matters.

She’ll understand one day. Probably around the time her first child is two and a half.

The The Transformation Begins by MushBrain, unless otherwise expressly stated, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. Terms and conditions beyond the scope of this license may be available at mushbrain.net.