 |
| This is how I envisioned my days as a mommy would be with my daughter....
I'm scrolling through Facebook this morning when I catch a glimpse of this sweet image of a mother and daughter picking flowers in a field and I start to cry. I know it's just a painting, but somehow, it resonates with me because, I think in my mind, this is what I thought being a mommy to a little girl might look like. All the time. I know. It's not at all realistic. But yet, here I am, in tears. It's 10 a.m. on a Friday. The sun is shining on this November morning and it's payday in the Ryken house which means no more scrounging for change for at least a week. :) Yet here I am, ruminating over the disastrous morning I believe I caused, thanks to my lifelong inability to control my temper. And over what, I ask myself. Over my daughter's lack of preparedness? How did it go so crazy?
Somehow we managed to go from a cheery good morning kiss on the cheek to &%^$#@! in mere minutes. It wasn't the lack of sleep because I rarely get more than four or five hours a night on any given day. It wasn't a lack of coffee. My husband has long since learned to hand me my coffee and back away quickly without speaking upon my waking up.
It was my lack of patience for a child who has been doing this get-ready-for-school-right-now drill for exactly as long as I have been doing it right along with her. So why, I ask, does she still not know to GET DRESSED and not pet the cat, start playing with her Lego castle or practice her jazz dance in the living room?
I'm very fortunate. My child is a good kid. She never gets in trouble for misbehaving or not following directions in school. She's a bright child. She makes good grades. In fact, she is an overachiever who will obsess over a B+. (I hated those kinds of kids in school...) I tell you this because, for the life of me, I cannot understand why she does NOT realize that the amount of times I must gently nag her to get her moving will directly correspond to the speed of my escalating anger and the decibel level of my shout, once I've reached my limit.
This morning, after several semi-cheery reminders for her to get dressed, I walked upstairs, keys in hand, to see what was taking her so long, only to find her still half dressed and freaking out because she couldn't find her shoes. Mind you, she has THREE pairs of school shoes.
I tried to remain calm as I went through her closet and looked under the bed. No shoes. I looked in her dance bag. No shoes. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. I feel the anger start to rise. I try deep breathing. I picture my drive and I start to panic. We live off a long and winding road to the freeway. If we don't time it just right, that 18 mile drive to school becomes bogged down and then I will have to do my walk of shame into the school to sign her in. She knows I HATE that. I race downstairs and start looking everywhere for shoes, any shoes, at this point... I'll take any two shoes, even if they're mismatched.
|
At which point she becomes a puddle of tears. I, already angry with myself for losing it, yet madder for not having one &^%#$@! pair of shoes for her to slip on, do the unthinkable. I drop a couple of F-bombs as I'm stomping back downstairs. Then, suddenly I remember she slipped her shoes off in the car on the way to dance at least twice this week. The shoes were probably in the car! (and they were...)
On the drive to school, I was still angry but now mostly at myself. Yes, I should be reminding her to carry in her shoes at night. But she's still just a kid. I'm the grown-up. I'm the one who should stay in control. I start to nag her and remind her that THIS is why I ask her to lay our her clothes the night before. Because of course, shouting and swearing this morning wasn't enough punishment for this poor child to endure.
After doing the walk of shame into the office where a cheery receptionist signed her in, I attempted to give my now sullen child a goodbye hug, only to be met with her back as she turned away and bolted up the stairs to her classroom.
Walking back to my car I was reminded of the many days I, myself, walked into classrooms with tearstains on my cheeks because of chaotic mornings with my own mom. I was about to go flog myself when I ran into another mom, whose daughter is in my daughter's class.
As we exchanged pleasantries, our kids' class walked by on their way to morning mass. My friend reached out to try and hug her daughter who was clearly angry at her mommy, too. We half-heartedly laughed and shared the fact that we'd both endured rough mornings with our girls. We joked about how much easier homeschooling might be, then wished each other a better day.
As I walked to my car I was thankful that God had put this other mom in my path this morning, to show me that I'm not alone in this morning battle of wills and to help me see it's actually pretty minor in the scope of things. By day's end, my daughter and I will be happy again, until the next chaotic morning rears its grumpy head. I realize this mother-daughter relationship is going to be filled with battle scars by the time she leaves home as a woman.
Meanwhile I'm going to remind myself today, as I'm reminding every mommy out there, that just as I never stop loving my daughter even when spitting mad, the feeling is mutual and she feels that same love toward me. And the same goes for YOU and YOURS. We're all gonna lose our patience and our tempers will flare. They're gonna hate us for it, temporarily. But we're all gonna be OK because our love is stronger than all this superficial strife put together. And if our human capacity to love is THAT strong here on earth, can you just imagine how strong God's love is for all of us, no matter how imperfect we are?
# # #
