So here it is, you are stronger than us: definitely in will, maybe in physical ability. We are trying to work out how to get things done, and despite our best intentions, sometimes our behavior goes...awry.
In graduate school I've been learning that, as a teacher, I should have a procedure for everything. Undoubtedly, having a plan for handing in papers, dealing bathroom passes and arranging group work will save a lot of stress in the classroom. So we've got some "procedures" at home. A few work, and a few do not.
For some reason I find it difficult to write about this -- I have higher expectations for myself as a parent. At the end of the day, when you are standing on the bed resisting pajamas -- or when you are running away while I'm trying to dry your hair -- or when you are kicking me while I am brushing your teeth -- I lose my cool, so to speak. There's not an outward expression of my anger in voice or physical action, but I feel myself growing cold and silent.
You are such a good girl, overall -- you capture everything we say, and don't say; you take it to heart. I think you perceive your antics as a fun time -- you are not malicious. But your pluckiness is bigger than mine. To some degree, I am jealous of your energy -- of your lightheartedness. I'm trying to work it out, to understand how to do this.
As with teaching, there are a thousand theories and ideas about parenting. There are models that attempt to understand and control children. I agree with much of what I've seen, but I don't want to read books to "get" you. I certainly don't need them to love you. Where do we go from here? Thank you for the lightness and the questioning -- may questions never bring darkness.