The Trudge

Ricki was in a rather contrary mood this morning. I can’t figure out anything that set her off; she simple was in a bad mood. Well, we all have days like that, but with Ricki they are becoming more and more frequent. (That’s one of the reasons we have started taking her to a psychologist. All the good parenting and positive messages in the world just do not seem to be enough for her right now, probably due to the poor mental health of a different family member.)
She fought with me on nearly everything, and early on I confiscated the key to the front door so that she could not leave for school until she looked decent (ie, had put on a bra and combed the tangles from her hair). Luckily she enjoys school, so the specter of not being allowed out the front door finally got her going.
However, she had wasted enough time that she was going to miss her ride, and when I warned her of the fact, she shrugged it off as if it was all a figment of my dark imagination. As she left the house I could hear the driver honking downstairs, but by the time I reached the window (where I could signal to him that she was on her way), he was gone. Ricki ambled peaceably to the corner, and I decided NOT to tell her that she had missed her ride; it would increase her anger, and I am hoping that by the time she reaches the school, her Concerta will have “kicked in” ,and that she will be in a mellower mood.
After about a five minute wait, I saw her turn and start the trudge to school (a twenty minute walk). And you know, despite the fact that she behaved atrociously this morning, I still felt sorry for her. Because I love her. (But because I love her, I also will let her experience the consequences of her behavior.)