“What did you learn at school today?” I asked as we walked home, hand in hand.

“We learnt about willow plates” Bubbles replied.

“What’s a willow plate?” I ask, curious.

But uh oh, I’ve stood on a shard of something I didn’t see coming.

“I WAS TELLING YOU….  ARGGHH” (she pulls out of my hand, angry, defiant, stomping) “WHY DON’T YOU LISTEN? …” (her breath is fast, her heart pounding “I FEEL LIKE…”

Glass Where I Least Expect It

There are times when I anticipate an outburst. The bits that she finds tough – pretty much any time when life isn’t her favourite movie with bow-wrapped gifts and so many sweets it must be Halloween.  When screen time is up (even if it’s teatime and its her favourite meal), or she is asked to do something she doesn’t want to such as (her latest parent-induced horror) Brush. Her. Hair.

Those I can prepare myself for, hiding my good mood and optimistic outlook into a secret corner of my soul, so that I can bring it out later, still smiling.

But it’s the WTF? moments that I struggle with the most. When I am skipping along, snuggling under a blanket of pretence that our family is fine and dandy and that this is just a normal day.

I Know It’s Not About Me

My mind, my brain, rationalises these outbursts. It reminds me that this is not about me, it’s not an attack on me, it’s not because I have done or said something wrong.

And yet I still feel like a bad mother for not avoiding these incidents (by being psychic?)

And no, it’s not about her either. She is doing what her brain has been programmed to do. She crosses into fight response at the click of a neuron. She doesn’t mean to do it, she has no control over it, and even though I know all these things, I feel like somehow this is my fault.

Just another flavour of parenting guilt.

Things I Don’t Do

There are some things I know (through experience and research) will only make things worse:

• talking to her
• cuddling/ touching her

That is not to say I won’t talk to her about it later, but right now, she needs space and time to calm down (without my ever asking her to calm down because that provokes escalation).

The Glass Stings

This week her outburst triggered something new in me. It reminded me of my first marriage, of living with someone who was unpredictable and at times abusive.

That feeling of living on a knife-edge, of walking over a minefield, never knowing when I might say or do the wrong thing to tip him into a rage or a sulk or worse.

My daughter never lashes out physically (and I nearly typed “yet” because that is the fear inside me, that there is worse to come). At the moment, her outbursts are vocal – screaming anger as she rages at the world.

I never realised until today, that one of the barriers to my parenting Bubbles effectively is the way that her behaviour stirs up those echoes of the past (things I thought I had left firmly in the past).

This Is My Choice

And I feel guilty for even suggesting a hint of a comparison with a spoilt grown-up who should have known better.

For starters – I love my daughter dearly.

When she is calm, her loving kindness is as infinite as the sky. She will wrap her arms around me, stroke my back and fill me with love until I burst. She is bright, loving, helpful, loves books, is creative, inventive, sings, dances and more.

I chose her nearly five years ago, based on scant information. And even knowing what I know now, having experienced how her traumatic early experiences have affected her, I would chose her again.

Because sometimes being a parent you are cast as Bruce Willis in Die Hard. and you’re going to have to wrap your bare feet in a tee-shirt and walk over that broken glass, because it’s the only way out.