When speaking to the mother about my observations she informed me about their past relationship with their previous nanny. Apparently the last nanny was very aggressive and mean to the little girl, and let the younger boy do whatever he pleased. She also told me that she gave the young boy much more attention, while giving the young girl none at all. It was very hard for me to figure out a healthy way to show both children I cared for them equally as well as made things equally fair because their last nanny relationship with bad for the little girl, and gave the little boy no boundaries. In order to fix the hectic nannying situation for myself, I had to be tougher on the little boy, which made him angry all the time, and gave the little girl more attention, which made her uncomfortable because she was not used to it.
She intuitively knew that her mother did not posses some of the qualities she desired and this frustrated her. While at the end of the story, Beccah learns to feel love for her mother (given her tragic circumstances), it is clear that she was angered, frustrated, and embarrassed at times- and at some level wished she could have had a different parent.
Through my younger age I hated her I absolutely hated her and she failed to understand why or explain to me so I could understand whom the lady was that I was staying with. Where my real mother was. She failed to help me see what was going on and with me only being four I thought she kidnapped me and I hated her. As I grew up I learned precisely what was going on and I no longer had a heart for her it dwindled down to more of a dislike. I understood why was with her, but I expended most of my early youth wondering why did this have to happen to me.
Complicated would be too mild of a word to describe growing up with such a family. The ultimate demise of my parents marriage was due, in part, to my mother’s infidelity. My brothers and I were caught in the middle of intense marital warfare on a daily basis. My childhood permeated with hostility and animosity. One might assume with that type of environment, and the obvious neglect of advantageous relationships, I too would find it hard to sustain a healthy relationship with the opposite sex.
I knew she was upset because she didn't get what she wanted, but that wasn't because of me, that was her mom. Her anger was channeled in the wrong direction and at the wrong person. I felt personally attacked by her comment, so I replied "Don't be mad at me, you just a brat and can't handle being told no. It's life, get over it." That did not make the situation any better, because my little cousin became hot with anger.
To tell the truth, I sometimes hated my parents for their bias treatment of my sister and I. Then again, I think I was quite a difficult child, both rebellious nonconforming, but it just hurts when the phrase “Don’t be like your sister” is used. Nevertheless, I grew up well adjusted and happy. I did not plan on becoming a mother at such a young age. I felt like there are so many things left unexperienced.
According to Ms. M, when she was a child her mother was very resolute and strong-willed. Despite Ms. M’s disability, her mother expected her to do things just like other children, and was intolerant of any excuses made by Ms. M in regard to her physical state. Ms. M described her mother’s behavior as insensitive at times. She reported her mother would often be disparaging and ridiculing towards her when she would act out her frustrations that arose from being pushed too hard. Ms. M expressed that although it was difficult for her as a child, she is now appreciative of her mother’s harsh and determined parenting because she believes that without her mother’s resolve and convictions, she would not be successful today.
At the start, I really did not like Gilly; I thought she was really mean and a horrible person. As the book continued though, I realised she was a lonely, hurt person who was rebellious for a reason. She needed love. I thought the ending was a happy one because Gilly wants to come home rather than staying with Nonnie and her mother. All those years she wanted to be with her mother and when they actually met, she didn't like her.
Growing up I was an abused child who wanted nothing more than to break free of the horrible torture that was imposed on me every day of my childhood. My mother hated me, and she was not shy in saying so. She would belittle me as if it gave her some kind of sick pleasure in destroying my fragile, developing ego. Naturally, I would grow up to be a person who didn’t have any ambition or goals for the future. This was because I focused all of my energy on the thought of getting away.
It 's ludicrously ironic now, but as child her logic made perfect sense, and I reasoned myself out of blaming her. She was right. I was wrong. She only mocked me subjected me to strange accusations and verbal cruelty, and we had always done something, anything wrong. After years of constant uncertainty, belittling, and the mounting awareness that my mother was losing her grip on ordinary behavior, I was beginning to realize that I had been afraid.