Being a Mama

So there we are, me in the driver's seat, Clara and Margaret in their car seats. I am spaced out a bit, but alert enough to eavesdrop on their conversation. When they play, sometimes Margaret is "Mother," and Clara is "Baby."
This afternoon, Margaret says, "Baby, I really am your mama."
Clara: "Mother, you can't be my mama. Real mamas have big feet, and your feet are little. And real mamas sit in the driver's seat and drive. Look at you, you're in a car seat like me. Mama is the real mama."
I laughed and laughed. So, that's all one needs, big feet. They are fixated on my feet, and my shoes. No matter what kind I've been wearing, they pounce on them and clomp around. Luckily, none of the heels are too high.
Yesterday was one of the most difficult days I've had with Clara. I don't know what was going on with her. She gets so excited and/or angry and then lashes out, sometimes at Margaret, sometimes at me. They had been playing in the sprinkler in the front yard, spraying each other and screaming with delight. Yup, it was 88 degrees here on April 5th!) When they came in to get washed off--they had grass in their hair--Clara was miffed about having to stop spraying. After being rinsed off and toweled dry, she was pressed up against my thigh and I was drying her hair. She bit me in the leg, and it really hurt. To the uncooperative chair she went, with restrictions about playing with Harper, our lovely next-door neighbor. In the course of the evening, Clara also kicked and hit me when things didn't go her way.
She told me later that she does these things when she doesn't think. So I encouraged her to start thinking, or she will never see her friends again. It takes a lot of self control on my part not to hit her back when she hurts me, but you know what? I'm way bigger than Clara is, and I could really hurt her.
Whenever I put her in the uncooperative chair, Margaret starts calling, "Dee Facts! Dee Facts!" The Department of Family and Children's Services, or DFACS, takes children away from mean parents, they both know. So Margaret calls them to rescue Clara.
Where was DFACS on Sunday? We went to a church-sponsored egg hunt after church. Some well-intended parents had scattered about 400 eggs around a playground, without hiding them. These are little plastic eggs filled with candy or toys. We were the first to the playground, because the girls wanted to play, and had to wait about 20 minutes before things got underway. Other children and parents arrived and crowded on the stairway leading to the playground. We moved into the shade to wait and let the others go into the playground first. About a minute after the gate had opened, all the eggs were gone. Clara found one, Margaret found none, while some children walked away with thirty or forty eggs. One dad and his son were high-fiving. I didn't like this event; it wasn't a hunt, it was a free-for-all, competitive candy grab. I may stage an egg hunt at home myself next year and actually hide the eggs. That's what Clara and Margaret like, finding things.
Candy isn't the primary reward, discovery is. Besides, they know I'm going to dole out their candy. Because that's what big-footed mamas do.