Is five-years-old too young to be pre-menstrual? After having two girls, I'm beginning to think the female species is born with a special mutant drama gene and PMS begins at birth...maybe conception.
Every Tuesday and Thursday morning I leave for the day and wander off to college to (theoretically) gain some wisdom and knowledge, and perhaps one day, a degree. Poor Sister still hasn't quite warmed up to this idea and begins telling me the moment she wakes up that she doesn't want me to go. Our conversation usually goes something like this:
"Mommy, I don't want you to go." (said with very sad eyes and voice)
"I know, Honey."
"But, Mommy, I really don't want you to go."
"I know. I heard you. But you're going to have lots of fun with Daddy today."
"No I won't have fun." (pouting)
"Okay, if you say so."
"Mommy, I really need to tell you something."
"What is it, Sweetie?"
"I don't like it when moms go."
"Honey, I know you don't want me to go, but I have to. It's good to learn new things, even when you're a mom."
"Mommy! (exasperated) I'm trying to tell you something!!"
"I really don't want you to go."
"Because I...I just like you."
"I like you, too, and I like being with you. I will be with you all day tomorrow."
"But I want you to be here today."
"I really don't want you to go."
You get the idea? This continues the entire morning until I leave, and there are sometimes tears involved. But today she turned the drama up a notch and made a most heart-wrenching scene. Hubby had sent her to her room as a way to pry her from my leg and let me finish getting ready to go. This did not go over well with her. She began sobbing on her bed and performed a very emotional monologue that would rival the most seasoned of thespians:
"This is all Daddy's fault! Mommy? (I do not answer, but try to ignore it so as not to get involved in this daddy/daughter matter) Mommy?! Mommy's already gone. Daddy made me miss her! (more weeping) I don't like daddies! I only like mommies!"
And the Oscar goes to...
After a while, she finally calms down and is allowed to come out just as I am leaving. I hug her and try to talk to her about other things to take her mind off my departure, but to no avail. She is trying to be brave and not cry, but she just can't turn it off. "I want to open the door for you," she says, sniffling. She opens it and I give her another big hug and tell her I love her. I remind her to color some pictures for me so I can see them tonight when I get home as I'm walking out. She nods her head and closes the door, fighting the tears, but very unsuccessfully.
My instinct is to throw down my books, scoop her up and weep with her, but I figure that will only escalate the drama, so I pretend I don't notice and get in the car. Just as I am pulling out of the driveway she runs out the front door in bare feet in the chilly morning wind and I hit the brakes. I open my door wide and let her jump into my arms, plastering her cheeks with kisses. "I love you. I'll be home soon," I say. "Okay," is her tiny response and she heads back up the steps to the front door. I see her bottom lip trembling and her face contorting into that squished up grimace one gets when they're holding back the floodgates.
It was all I could do to back the car out of the driveway.