Cranky Children: Some Mornings, Only a Family Could Love Them

Machaela seemed pretty calm when she got home from school,
which was surprising. When she left this morning she had the
crank-a-lu-la's,
It started when I woke her up and she said, "Too early, I'm too
tired to get up." I felt the same way, but I said, "Once you're up for
a little while you 'U feel better."
"You always say that," she answered, "and it is not true."
I gave her a uniform blouse and her uniform and then ran off to
light some fireworks under Patrick to get him moving, only to be
called back to Machaela's room by the sounds of a fit in progress. I
had given her "the wrong stupid blouse; did you think I was
Maureen?"
Everyone came downstairs but Machaela, who was lying on the
landing at the top of the stairs carrying on. The heel of her sock
was on the front instead of the back of her foot and she couldn't fix
it. Socks have always been a problem for her. When she was in
preschool, car-pools loaded with 4-year-olds would becooling their
wheels in our driveway while I'd run up and down the stairs
seeking the acceptable sock.
Finally Machaela was ready to go. My nerves also were ready for
her to go. When she reached the front door, she saw Colleen and
Maureen waiting by the sidewalk instead of by the door.
Her reaction, a hysterical "They're not waiting for me!" caused
me to run to the door to make assurances that they were. Out she
ran, yelling the whole way. I made the mistake of yelling after her:
"I put your census card in your bag."
"I can't hear you," she screamed. Colleen did hear me and tried
to show Machaela the card, which made Machaela turn on Colleen,
"I knew it was in there, why are you showing me something I
already know?"
Now I was getting worried that they would miss the bus, so I
went out on the lawn in my nightgown to tell them to get going.
Colleen, who probably wondered why she couldn't have been an
only child; grabbed Machaela's hand and dragged her down the
street.
After school, I asked Colleen when Machaela calmed down. She
replied, "Well, half-way to the bus stop, she said she was sick. So I
told her to go back home, but she didn't want to."
"Instead she put her backpack around her neck and started
screaming again, saying she was choking to death. But then the bus
came, she got on and she was all smiles. It doesn't make any sense,
does it?"
But it does make sense. When we go out in the world, we have to
behave. Home is where we can have our fits and still be loved.
That's where I have mine.
At the age of 6, Machaela knows this. She knows we don't love
her fits, but she knows we love her just as she loves us when it is
our turn to be out of sorts.
In a family, everyone seems to have his day. But after today, I
hope I don't get the chance tomorrow to love someone in spite of
himself.
September 19, 1985