

I have had parenting on the brain lately. A lot. I've heard it said before that the odd numbered ages in general are tough, and when Ella was three I had a glimpse of why. Now we are in the thick of five and I feel like we are back in the trenches.
As I sit here on the couch after midnight, with a five-month-old sitting next to me who won't fall back asleep (and is fully engrossed in the remote control I offered to her), I can't help but think how simple it is to mother babies. All they need is for you to feed them, change them, bathe them, hold them, and love them. Sleep deprivation? That's easy. But a power struggle with a five-year-old who has somehow acquired the attitude of a fifteen-year-old? Well, I fear it will be the end of me.
Let me tell you a few things about Ella. First and foremost, she is a joyful child. Truly. I can't even tell you how many different people over the years have commented to me about the sunshine that Ella radiates on a daily basis. Her former preschool teachers. The tennis coach who only spent a few hours with her this summer, but still felt the need to specifically search me out after the last class to comment on this particular personality trait. The mom who told me Ella had the "best laugh" when I picked her up from a playdate. The parents on the sidelines of her soccer games who were charmed by the fact that a smile never leaves her face during games (never mind that she has no real interest in following the ball). This joy is evident in her hearty giggle, and when expressed in tandem with her seemingly endless reserve of energy it is quite a powerful combination.
But while she is passionate in her joy, she is equally passionate in the range of all her emotions. That means when she is happy, it is intoxicating. And when she is not, things get ugly. And I am realizing more and more that I don't necessarily have the tools to reign in that negative energy. It doesn't help that in so many ways, Ella and I are exactly alike. She seems to know exactly what buttons to push, which means that many nights I am left defeated, wondering how I can do better tomorrow. I ask myself if I'm being too hard on her? Not hard enough? I agonize over whether I'm making her feel like the "bad" child (something I don't ever want to do, because she's not).
And then as I sit alone in the dark next to a babbling baby, a thought occurs to me. Perhaps I am making this harder than it needs to be? Maybe the needs of my five-year-old really aren't so different from the needs of my five-month-old after all. I know there is a place for discipline, for rules and respect, and I don't even begin to think I have all (or even some) of the answers.
But maybe when it comes down to it, all Ella really needs is love. Even when it's hard. And thankfully, there are still plenty of moments when it's oh so easy:
Ella and I ("J" for Jennifer and "E" for Ella, in case you are wondering who is who) with the school bus in the background "because I like when you put me on the bus in the morning."