Pushing My Buttons

With all the things Aberash has been doing over the past 7 months - learning a new language, making friends, starting kindergarten, and a whole slew of "first-time- ever"s, there is one thing she has done pretty frequently, and shown a lot of skill at doing it.

And that's pushing my buttons.

To say that Aberash is strong willed and determined is a bit of an understatement.  Sometimes that character comes through in amazing ways, like watching her tackle the monkey bars, swimming, or riding her bike over and over until she gets it.  But sometimes it comes through in ways that are bit more frustrating.... exhausting, even.  Like adamantly stating that "doro" is all she wants, breakfast, lunch, or dinner for three weeks, then suddenly deciding doro is out and ramen noodles are in.  Or the crazy intensity she can get when playing, carefully dictating exactly what you are supposed to do with you struggling to keep up, and wondering when you are going to take a foot to the groin or a finger to the eye.  And, best of all, the times when Aberash decides to let you know she really doesn't need you.  No, she doesn't want your kisses, thank you very much, and would be just as happy if you took a hike.  She might even be willing to say a few nasty things to get you moving.  That button makes me what to snap in frustration.  This one makes my head spin.  And this button?  This one makes me want to storm off and sulk for a few hours, nursing my sore feelings.  Yep, Aberash is VERY good at pushing my buttons.

Except, for the past few weeks, she hasn't.

I'd like to say the button pushing stopped because of intense contemplation and effort on my part, but that isn't the case.  It just... stopped.
  
Sue recently gave me some very good advice.  Sometimes its easy to take a look at the way adopted kids are behaving and think, "Oh, OBVIOUSLY that's because she was adopted/abandoned/whatever.  But thinking this way takes something big and real and important, and tries to turn it into something small.  We are shaped by the experiences we have, and at six years of age, Aberash's life experiences - good and bad - have turned her into this wonderfully complex little human being.  Like all of us, she has her own personal challenges that will be a part of her, and which (hopefully) we'll be able to help her address.  But the stuff she does that pushes my buttons might be more about me than it is her.  Because when I think about it, that crazy determination and strength of will is Aberash's greatest asset.  It's the stuff that makes her light up every room she is in.  The stuff that will help her grow into a strong, independent woman.  Maybe I might need to redirect how it comes through a little bit (ie, no kicks to the groin, please), but I would never want it to go away. Yes, being adopted is a very real part of who Aberash is.  But it isn't all of who she is, and I might do better with more understanding and acceptance for all her complexities.  And you know what's really amazing?  How a little bit of acceptance can open up all these wonderful and amazing experiences.  Gifts life hands you.  Like when I decide to NOT get mad at my teenage son for being a scatterbrain and making me drive all over the place, and suddenly find myself having a more real conversation with him then I've had in months.   Maybe instead of giving into frustration and asking myself why my kids do the things they do, I should be asking myself some different questions.  Why the fuck do I have all these buttons, anyway?  And what would it take to make them go away?        .  

The other night Aberash and I were getting ready for bed, and she started jumping up and down on the bed and acting crazy.  It was late, and I was tired, and she had look of intensity that made me worry if I needed to protect my eyes from the pending finger poke.  Then I looked at her.  Really looked at her.  Bouncing up and down on the bed with this look of intense joy on her face.  And it hit me.  When you are a parent, isn't it a part of your JOB to create an environment where that kind of unfettered joy can come through?  Whether your child is a teenage boy or a little girl from Ethiopia, shouldn't those moments where they feel safe and comfortable being exactly who they are be considered nothing more than an incredible victory?  I burst out laughing, and pulled Aberash close for a hug.  And that's when she gave me this gift.    

"You crazy funny, daddy.  I love you."

And that button?  That one melts my heart.  I think I'll keep that one.