A Mommy Story

“This’ll hurt me more than it hurts you.”

Did you ever hear that from a parent? I think several of us heard it, and probably even more from our parents’ generation. I always thought it was a dumb statement, since usually it meant something painful was about to happen to the child, and not the parent, so how could it hurt them more?

Today I finally understand it.

Princess Cranky-Butt was in fine form today. Grumpy, easy to tantrum, throwing toys, and generally behaving badly. I spent most of the day trying to do a song and dance (literally) to keep her entertained. But the tyrant wanted none of it, and nothing I did made her happy. I sat on the floor and tried to read her a book. She threw the book. I checked my e-mail and left her alone. She screamed at me for daring to hide behind the gate. I sat in a chair and watched Wiggles with her. She’d wail for me to pick her up, and then as soon as I picked her up, she’d struggle and whine to get down. Repeat 15 gazillion times.

Now, my sweet little toddler has a tendency to bite. She has bitten me on a number of occasions, although rarely hard, and we’ve been working to break her of the habit. Lately she seems to have given it up, so I have been off my guard in watching for those sharp little teeth.

I sat on the floor once again and tried to play with her. She finally sat on my lap and decided that hitting mommy in the chest was a fabulous game. It started with gentle pats, but then quickly turned into blows. So I took her arm gently and said, “No hit. We don’t hit.”

Cordelia, being the “intense” child that she is, jumps up and waddles away crying, as if I just killed her kitty in front of her or something. Then she turns and looks at me, and starts to walk back to me, picking up speed with a smile on her face, and opening her arms wide for hug.

Wow, I think, she wants a hug! (It’s a rare occurrence here, so I have every right to be surprised.) So I open my arms and let her little body collapse into me. I wrap my arms around her, grateful for a happy moment, and she rests her head on my shoulder. Then, the pain hits me.

“OWWWWW!!” I yell as my little vampire attacks my shoulder with her fangs. She was biting through my shirt, but it didn’t lessen the intense, hot pain. And then, it happened.

I smacked her. Yes, I’m hanging my head in shame here, confessing to my crime. I smacked her on the butt. Not a beating force, but not a light tap either. She still was biting my shoulder, and the pain had blurred any thoughts I might have of how to properly handle the situation. I didn’t have time to ponder, “What would Dr. Sears do if a toddler was trying to take a chunk out of his shoulder?” Instinct took over, and I hit her on the butt.

She let go and pulled back, an astonished look on her face. I put my face right up to hers, and said, “NO BITE!” The water works followed that, along with fierce crying and wailing. She slowly crawled away from me as I sat there stunned at what had just happened. I mean very slowly crawled away, making sure to glance back at me with a shattered, accusing look that broke my heart.

She continued to move away from me and cry while I played those few seconds back in my mind a dozen times. Omigod, I HIT my child! My little girl, who barely knows wrong from right at this age! I am the worst parent ever! My rational mind knew that I didn’t smack her hard enough to do anything more than get her attention, but my heart was ready to hand in my Mommy Badge and quit, citing the fact that I was an unfit mother.

A moment later I was calling to Cordy to come over to me, wanting to hug her, wipe away her tears and comfort her. She stood up and walked back to me, crying less with each step, and again fell into me for a hug, with no biting this time.

And just to make it clear how hard she bit me: I have a baby-mouth sized reddish-purple bruise on my shoulder. Hours later, it still feels hot and sore to the touch. This photo was taken shortly after it happened, but the area has darkened since then.

We sat there for 5 minutes as I wrapped my arms around her and gently told her that I was sorry that she was so upset, but she really hurt mommy and we don’t allow biting. I’m sure she barely understood a word of that, but I think the meaning got across to her: this hurt me far more than it hurt you.

I’m still shaken down to the core at this first drastic bit of discipline. I had never planned to spank my child, and I really have no intention to ever do it again. But in that situation, it just seemed right at the moment. I’m scared of myself now. Scared I might lose my cool again. Scared she’ll someday tell her therapist that this is the reason she’s so screwed up.

So for tonight, at least, I’m burdened with a huge chain of mommy guilt around my neck. And I feel like I deserve it.