The Tortured (Scam) Artist

Well, I'm tired this week, so I'm not running on all cylinders. Most of the reason for my weary state is our resident Tortured Soul, Cup.

Cup is a manipulator. She innocently (although that's debatable)thinks that she always has the answer. So, that means standing in the middle of a swim academy facility, baiting her to please turn right because, yes, mommy actually knows where we're going. It means, after putting on her shoes for her, turning around and seeing that she has switched them to the wrong feet, because after all, she knows better.

But when she can't seem to master the task (or person) in front of her, she 's an oozing wound. She's torturously frustrated at the world, metaphorically shaking her tiny fists at the sky and vengefully kicking a scapegoated Barbie with a fierce pink Stride Rite.

Down deep in my mommy soul, I know it's because she's a leader and feels a natural, innate sense of competence. So, she's just exercising being "herself." I try to tell myself that we're raising a secure, confident child that feels free to express herself. Not a monsterous, self-indulgent brat. And her "failures" are so upsetting because she has such high (albeit unnecessary) standards for herself.

But, in a daily existence, it's maddening because almost every encounter with her ends up in tears. Most of the time, her. But sometimes, me. But one of ends up in an emotional puddle.

Her Fitzgerald-eque ways reminded me of a character from my past. Don Music...the guy on Sesame Street that used to bang his head on the piano out of frustration, crazy hair flying about.

As I empathetically watched this clip, I realized I am Kermit, patiently trying to talk Don (Cup) off the ledge, through the task, subtly sarcastic and borderline snarky, but getting the job done.

I dig Kermit's technique.