Could you describe a pickle as fickle? Guess you could say so because there are different variations of pickles. You could be prepared to eat a delcious bread and butter pickle and then realize mid-bite it is actually a sour dill. ? Anyway, it's the first thing I thought of that rhymed with the word that is in my thoughts today. This post isn't even about pickles, so just drop my dumb comparison. It's about girls. But "fickle as a girl" is just too obvious of a simile.
Ava is a sweet and charming little person... most of the time. And almost always with other people. However, I just had a challenging moment with her. It was the end of her nap and she was talking sweetly in her room. I went to pick her up, knowing I needed to quickly get her out and get the chicken out of the oven and broccoli off of the stove for the kids' lunch. I walked in with a smile and she looked at me and screamed "NO MOM!" at the top of her lungs. I tried to tell her nicely it was time for lunch but she just buried her head in her pillow and screamed at me. Then I tried to pick her up and she yelled "Go away!" So I turned and started to leave and she peaked through her crib slats and screamed "NO MOM!" even louder. I was annoyed. Can't please her by picking her up or by leaving her alone. At that moment, the phone rang.
I ignored her sudden insistent pleas to stay with her and went to grab the phone. It was my husband. I got excited, thinking he was coming home. Instead, we had a familiar conversation that he had more things to do at work (it's his day off and he is covering for someone, as general managers are expected to do) and would meet me at my job to exchange kids in 2 hours. Sarcasm colored my voice as I sweetly said, "That's okay honey- just what I was hoping to hear. I didn't really want to talk to any adults today anyway." We got off the phone after agreeing on a time to meet and I went back to the grumpy baby. I then realized that even if Ro would have been calling to tell me he was coming home, I would have been a little bitter to only spend 30 minutes with him before having to leave for work. Then little Aves and her stubborn (and sometimes moody) personality popped into my mind.
After coaxing her out of her crib, we both went to enjoy some burnt chicken and overcooked broccoli together. After all, I know her better than anyone because she is so much like me. Wish me luck in the teenage years. Fickle friends forever.
SO I am documenting this right now because in five minutes I will probably feel like my fickle self and have changed my mind about it: The real people in this family to feel sorry for are not the two alike, head-butting females but the males, who will have to deal with our ever-changing moods and still love us anyway.