I have to admit, I am struggling with The Age of Impossible. That is, Three.
Although I love her into a squillion million little bits and just want to munch her up, I can’t help getting frustrated by the squillion million little unreasonable requests a squillion million times a day.
There’s unreasonable. Then there’s impossible.
Like that half hour you are desperately trying to get out the door. “I need my flower shoes!” “They are too big for you, and I don’t know where they are.” “But I neeeed [insert high-pitched scream here] them!” “No!” “Yes!” “No!” (Unreasonable.)
And in that same half hour…
“But I need that painting. The one that daddy gave me.” “No, we are in a rush now. I am not getting it.” “But I neeeed [insert high-pitched scream here] it!” “No!” “Yes!” “No!” (Unreasonable.)
Later that day…
“Put the box under the hammock. No, not like that. Like that. Like THAT! Under the bottom. No, the feet. Under the feet. Like a hot air balloon! Tie the hammer to the ribbon. No, not like that. Like THAT! [insert high-pitched scream here] Not there, THERE! [insert high-pitched scream here]”
Even later that day…
“I need the mouse one. No that’s not the mouse one! Not that one, the other one! The other ONE! [insert high-pitched scream here]”
The unreasonable requests, on their own, are OK. After all, from a three-year-old’s perspective, they are not unreasonable at all. Impossible requests – they are getting tricky.
But it is when any request of any impossible nature is accompanied by a high-pitched screech, perfectly pitched to get you leaping into full-blown action, or rolling on the floor in tears that mummy falls into a frustrated, messy, cranky puddle.
The screech. Like nails on a blackboard. Without it, I can handle anything. Before the screeching and the age of impossible, I believed I could solve every problem. Now, my resolve has been weakened, and I am pretty sure my solution will be rejected.
People assume I am perennially gentle. Believe me, I wish I was. But when the impossible requests and the screeching happens in pairs throughout the day, I begin to get my “Mum” voice on, and sound less than gentle.
I hate how I sound.
“Right, I have had enough. No more!”
“I will not get that painting. It’s ridiculous. Now get in the car.”
Actually, I can’t even bear to write it all down. It’s like hearing my voice on a tape recording. Yuk.
Every morning, I wake with a new resolution. Today I won’t get frustrated.
But I know from reading other people’s blogs and status updates, this is a global phenomenon. Mums get their cranky on when they have had enough of cranky children. I swore this wouldn’t be me. But then these words are coming out of my mouth, coded into me. No matter how many resolutions I make, they come, with the crazy three-year-old requests.
“It’s a shame they grow up,” said a shopkeeper, admiring the quiet baby I held in my arms. I nodded, in agreement, because at that point my three-year-old was yelling at me to do something or other. I didn’t want to be that mother who thought this thought. But I thought this thought.
What is it about being three that is so confronting?
Why do these unreasonable requests irk me so? I think this period brings out the control freak in me. Usually latent, it’s brought alive because I can’t control this situation. Negotiation, kind words, hugs…it’s useless. I can’t make my three-year-old say or do anything. I can’t fix the problem, or find a solution to the impossible.
It’s challenging. I am trying to control the situation by putting my foot down, and not putting up with it anymore, no! I have had enough. It’s time to stop.
But I can’t control her. And of course, the bigger picture me knows I don’t want to control her. I really don’t. I want her to be free-spirited. Unrestrained. This is what makes the children I know so beautiful.
Raising free-spirited children, who are now not only free, but have their own minds, and can disagree, and insist and refuse and invent impossible scenarios, which must happen immediately is all very very challenging.
I’m hanging in there, not quite. Trying to get my head around Three – The Age of Impossible.
*Note. Since writing this last night, things completely turned on their head. I had a beautiful day with a perfectly reasonable three-year-old, hanging out at the markets, chatting, telling stories. She’s so beautiful. I really could munch her up. Maybe three can last forever after all. Until the next screech.
allaboutbeingamummy.wordpress.com 
April 6, 2013 at 9:56 pm
Four – out of all the ages from 1 – 10 that I have experienced 4 is my favourite age. They’re still enough of a baby for lot’s of cuddles and squishing but they can articulate their needs better and they have gained some “reasonableness”, for want of a better word, that make them less frustrated and less frustrating!
Hang in there – you’re doing the hard yards now but you’ll reap the rewards next year 🙂
April 6, 2013 at 10:01 pm
Thanks Rachel. Three is great most of the time too…just those off moments, where I know emotions and cognitive reasoning just aren’t quite in balance yet. I can’t wait for four though. Look forward to more squishing cuddles. xx
April 6, 2013 at 10:13 pm
Zanni, I am so glad you posted this! We are living the same thing at the moment- betty can be either an angel or a crazy lady! It’s a hard adjustment after being lulled into security thinking we had just produced a Buddha baby who was always going to be a cruiser, we’ve had such a ridiculously easy ride with her until now.. But yep, we too are discovering the wonderful world of three…and it aint always pretty haha! They’re good kids tho, they’ll get there. And I just keep trying to see the humour in it- those ridiculous requests they come up with, some of them are gold hey! Haha, spirited little nutters. Big love xx
April 6, 2013 at 10:20 pm
Thanks Clare 🙂
I’ve been wondering how little Betty’s been getting on! It’s nice to know there’s parallel parenting happening somewhere south of here. Makes me feel comforted. They are crazy little nutters, and yes, humour is the best tactic of all. xx
April 6, 2013 at 11:29 pm
Oh I could have written this – was nodding along! My three year old’s kinder teacher was telling me three is really tough because three year old’s finally understand what they want {everything} and when they want it {now} and mummy’s always saying no 🙂 I find I get frustrated too, but I try to play along and that normally changes her mood… So when she needs her pink tiara {which is who knows where} so we can leave the house, I’ll say I don’t know where it is but let’s look for it in the fridge {she’ll laugh and say that’s silly} or in the bed.. When we can’t find it, I’ll say can you think of something else you can see you could bring? And normally she can, because the anger/frustration that caused the tantrum in the first place isn’t there. But Sometimes it doesn’t work, and sometimes I am exhausted and frustration is my first response. I remind myself I’m human, and just like she’s working out three, I’m still working out this parenting gig 🙂 Great post Zanni xx
April 7, 2013 at 10:24 pm
You’re approach sounds very sensible Elisa! Thanks so much for your compassion and your wisdom. xxx
April 7, 2013 at 2:35 pm
You know, we got through 2, and loved it, and thought, “Phew, looks like we escaped those terrible 2s people are always talking about!” Nope. He saved it for 3!! He never screeched though, thank God. I don’t handle screeching AT.ALL. But like another reader said, 4 (almost 5 now) is magical. I’d love him to stay this age forever. Hang in there lovely. I think someone once told me there’s a hormon surge at 3 (?) for girls, 4 for boys (?) I can’t remember exactly, but it made sense at the time! Maybe that’s happened?
April 7, 2013 at 10:25 pm
I wouldn’t doubt it. It’s like living with a small less rational teenager. With a higher scream. At least she doesn’t slam doors or know how to swear. It really seems like a hormone surge. xx
April 13, 2013 at 7:05 pm
Nod, nod, nod, uhuh, uhuh… yep! This could be a piece about my very own three year old, including the afterthought. I really have no idea why people talk about the “terrible twos”. Silly me to think we had skipped that… Unfortunately I have absolutely no advice. Except to know that you’re not alone!
April 13, 2013 at 8:14 pm
Thanks Lucinda. Hope your ride gets easier too. We seem to be having a good week here. 🙂
April 14, 2013 at 7:15 pm
Hey zan, was just reading your other comments below and saw your theory of hormone surge and that’s exactly what it is! I read ‘the female brain’ by dr brizendine last year (really interesting! Takes you from conception to the later years, learnt some things about myself too!) and apparently at 3yrs old they experience a surge of oestregen and in fact it’s ratio to progesterone at this age is the same as a teenage girl in puberty! So they are totally experiencing mini puberty blues… Consider it practice! Haha x
April 14, 2013 at 7:22 pm
Wow, that’s so interesting Clare. Thanks for letting me know! It completely makes sense…well, I just all the more reason to love and support the little tykes, rather than trying to butt heads against it. xx