Nagging

Isabella has a party to go to, and I ask if she wants to change. “Are you sure you want to wear that? Your colors kind of clash.”
After a little back and forth arguing, she agrees to at least wear a light jacket. She’s firm on the shoes: ballerinas, which are not great for playing in the yard. “Stand still,” I tell her, “so I can fix your hair. It’s all over the place.”
She recently decided to give herself bangs, which means certain chunks can’t fit in her pony tail anymore, leaving hair in her eyes. “It’s not a good look,” I tell her, “you look much nicer without bangs.”

She stands very still, and I can feel her thinking: Wouldn’t it be nice if my mom kept her mouth shut for, say, the next fifteen years?

“Nag, nag, nag,” I tell her. “Change your hair, your dress, your shoes. Sit down. Stand up. Chew with your mouth closed. Put your pajamas on; brush your hair. How do you put up with me for a mother? It must be terrible.”

“Yes, and you also tell me to brush my teeth,” she says.

Actually, I was joking, and I tell her so. She looks at me with a slightly annoyed look on her face; she didn’t get the joke. As far as she’s concerned, I do nag too much, and it would be great if I could knock that off right about now.

The truth of the matter is, my nagging comes in waves. I can go for days without it, and then all of a sudden find ten things that need to be corrected. Also, Isabella doesn’t draw a distinction between nagging, and regular reminding. For instance, “did you finish your homework,” does not count as nagging in my book. Also, mothers are allowed a certain number of freebies. Freebies which I used up long ago, Isabella thinks: she is eight years old, for god’s sakes, and can take care of herself. Why don’t I see that? What is it that makes it so hard to understand she’s practically an adult?

As an experiment, I decide to lay off for the rest of the day. Left to fend for herself, she overdoses on cinnamon rolls. She subsequently moves her bedtime to 10:45 pm, at which point she’s so exhausted she can’t get to sleep. Also, she’s looking kind of green; I give myself points for not gloating. At least, not to her face.

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