Does She Really Hate Me?

May 9, 2022

This is Me – Fighting with my Six year old

The struggle with adoption and the different levels of rejection I suffer!

“Mum” came the little voice from the bathroom, “yes Georgie” It’s the tone of the Mum that had me already thinking I’m not going to like this conversation. Sure enough, as I got to the bathroom she was pointing at my black baggy joggers that I had laid out to wear after my shower. “I hate those trousers Mum they are really not cool”.  Phew okay, not as bad as I thought then. Georgie doesn’t hold back she just says it as it is. “Dad is cool, I like his clothes He’s super cool” I have to say that I agree Dad is pretty cool. He does wear nice matching clothes, But, now and again he does also wear some awful outfits in the name of fashion. The conversation didn’t go any further my daughter tends to just say what’s in her head and moves on straight away having made her point.

I did hesitate briefly when it came to putting on the well-loved comfy black baggy joggers that I love dearly for their comfort value, in fact, I have three pairs in varying phases of wear and tear. I popped on a nice pink long length T-shirt hoping that would deflect Georgies’ disdain for the joggers. Nope, the pink T-shirt didn’t do the trick as soon as I walked into the living room she screeched ” I hate you Mum” You are so NOT cool. She flew past me and slammed into her bedroom shouting that she was NOT going out with me to the school taxi in those trousers.

To be rejected and hated by my 6-year-old even just in the moment, felt utterly horrible. The tap started to drip.

The pain of those shouts. of I hate you, inside my heart was doing a flip flop. I could feel the dripping tap of rejection starting to build up a flow. Does she really hate me or does she just hate the joggers? My mind was clattering away, I’m no good, I can’t manage this parenting thing. I knew this would happen that she wouldn’t like me after a while. I had to almost physically shake my head to stop the flow from getting any faster. Once it reaches tsunami levels it’s hard not to self destruct. Deep breath, and into her room I go. She is under the duvet crying her eyes out. Wow, all this over my comfy black baggy joggers!

Once wrestled out and onto my lap and a little calmer, I ask her Do you really hate these joggers? “yes” she sniffled. Okay, I conceded this is the last time I wear them to go outside how about that?

I had to say to her though that she had made Mummy feel really sad when she said she hated me. She looked up at me with her huge big brown eyes and said ” I don’t hate you Mummy but your still not cool like Daddy” I was happy to hear the Taxi beeping its horn.

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