Mixing Up Already

In one of my earlier posts, I mentioned a little girl belonging to the family we stayed with upon first arriving in King Salmon.  Little H., as we will call her, is almost four and sharp as a tack.  I have had the blessing and privilege of becoming her babysitter/nanny in the last week or so (as my sister-in-law says, I get paid to love her!). We spent the first few days over at her house because there was nothing for an almost four year old to do at my house.  Literally nothing.  A small box of baby toys, and a handful of baby books.  We would have been climbing the walls!
A few days ago, her mom brought over several rubbermaid totes of toys, art supplies, dress-ups, and books for her to use, and starting yesterday, H. came to play at our house!  It has been quite an adjustment to caring for two and appropriately dividing attention between them. I must say, I did not expect it to be such a challenge at first.  I've watched other people's kids for as long as I can remember, and usually done so with a good experience for both myself and the child(ren).  Its a little different now that one of them is my own child, and since I haven't watched other peoples kids for quite a while now.  Both Eden and H. are only children so far, and not used to sharing me! They do entertain each other though, and usually get along quite well. Eden refuses to nurse or sleep unless she's almost dying while H. is around.  There's too much going on, and she might miss something! And H. has a hard time if Eden starts really making noise - she will match the yelling/talking nonsense/screaming, as if that acts as some kind of noise cancelling system in her head.  We're working on that.

Yesterday, she arrived at my house around 2:45, climbing off the school bus with busy energy after a full morning of preschool.  I cajoled her into her swim suit, put the clothes back on (because its still topping out in the 40's here), woke up Eden, and hustled them both into the car twenty minutes late for H's swimming class.  I was already tired from getting up with my early waking daughter, and a bit frustrated at being so late.  H refused her snacks and drinks, not unpleasantly, but I knew we were just building up to a storm.  Sure enough, her first act as I tried to help her dry off and get dressed after the class was to snatch her panties and start gleefully mopping up puddles of water that had been left on the locker room benches.  Several other little girls, all in various stages of changing, stared in horrified awe.  Eden was sitting on the bench, working up to a worried yell over this new and echoey place, and trying to climb up my leg (which was blocking her there while I tried to corral H.)  Naked little H. was just out of reach, so, feigning indifference on my part and resigned regret on her part, I just said, "Too bad. I guess you'll just have to wear wet panties now."  In her most naughty, I-don't-care voice, she replied, "I like wet panties." Another little girl, also totally starkers, solemnly shook her head, and looking at me as if speaking from past experience, declared, "You won't like it.  You will cry."
I wanted to laugh and shake my head at once because it was such a ridiculous scene, but I finally managed to catch my little charge without chasing her and thus losing all credibility as her new authority figure, and apply her clothes. (Without the wet panties.  They were actually pretty sopping by then.)
Then she wanted a treat. I hustled her past the concessions stand with the assurance of snacks in the car, but unfortunately, they were "healthy" snacks.  You know, the kind moms send because they're good for you and she knows you'll eat them if you're really starving? H. wasn't starving enough to eat hers.  Or probably she was just already too far along the low-blood-sugar, totally-worn-out-and-wound-up, end-of-a-long-day road.
And then we had to make a quick stop at the grocery store before heading back to King Salmon.  Which was pretty much a set up for disaster.  We didn't even make it past the first display before she lost it over first a stuffed tomato and then a lollipop that glowed.  I had been talking as we walked in about how she was going to hold on to the cart, right? And walk along right beside me? Yeah, right.  I quickly scooped her up, and quietly reminding her about what we'd just talked about, plopped her into the back of the cart.  We proceeded to the cream cheese and eggs, me with a serenely gritted teeth and quietly cheerful words, H. like the screaming banshee, sobbing that she "never had a lollipop," and Eden in the cart seat, holding onto the handle with a death grip and eyes like marbles.  She didn't know what was going on but she was just holding on for dear life! Store employees and the few other shoppers were by turns sympathetic and, I think, just wished we get out of there.  And we finally did make it out and to the car, H. sobbing and screaming the whole way.  Two minutes into the drive home, she passed out and proceeded to sleep through my unpacking everything around her, the transfer into her mother's car, and until 3am this morning.

Today was better, but still, by the time swim practice rolled around (which we thankfully made it to on time!) I was just shaking my head, wondering.  I had carefully tanked her up at regular intervals during the day, and we'd had a quiet time while Eden took a nap (whew!).  But the sassy-ness, the lack of cooperation, the acting up and the borderline aggression toward Eden had me almost at my wits end!  There's only so much you can do to discipline a child, especially if they're not actually yours, and there's only so much negative discipline(as in stern words, the "hairy eyeball," and implied or promised negative consequences) you can impose before it becomes counterproductive.
So I sat there in the spectators bay of our very well-heated indoor swimming pool, visiting a little with some other nice ladies from the community, and mostly watching H. splash about in the shallows with her classmates and pondering.  What was going on in her head? In her heart?  Why was she acting the way she was?  How much of it was just her age, her personality, her stage, the newness of our situation or the newness wearing off? What could I do to nip these negative interactions in the bud and proactively shape our relationship? As the time passed and her class drew to a close, I still didn't know a lot of what I was wondering, but some nebulous ideas were taking shape.
This time, I took charge of her panties to be sure they got onto her body in a dry condition.  And the simplest of things made a difference.
Let one of the other ladies hold Eden while I spent a few minutes one-on-one with H. putting on her clothes and "carrying her like a baby" out to the foyer as she requested.
Take a few moments in the blustery cold sunshine to walk across the parking lot and check out the kite tangled in the swingset.
Take a few more moments to play in the deserted playground - mostly just chasing H. back and forth with Eden bouncing on my hip.
Don't force her to wear her coat, but bring it because you know she'll get cold and want it later.
Just a few little things.  No compromises on important things.  No acceptance of sass or bad manners. Not being a pushover just to avoid negativity.  It made a world of difference.

And as for being mixed up - Eden was sitting in the sink, taking a bath while I made dinner tonight.  She kept reaching around to grab the tubing to the filter.  I kept telling her to not touch it and the name that first came to my lips in warning and rebuke was "H..." Already. Darn.