The morning started out well. Ella arrived in my room to peek under the covers and gently tell me, “Mom, the sun coming up,” her cue that it’s time to get out of bed. We ate a leisurely breakfast together, chatting and laughing. Things were going so agreeably, I decided to say “yes” when she asked to watch a Mario, despite my better judgement.
She quickly chose clothes to wear – purple and striped, although not necessarily matching or as warm as I would have liked. We even had her hair combed, teeth brushed, and socks on with 35 minutes to go before school. Perfect. I put on a show, hopped in the shower, and let brother sleep.
As usual, things started to go downhill when it was time to turn off the tv and get her shoes on. For some reason, Ella refuses to multi-task (she’s a female, so I’m certain she’ll pick up this skill eventually) and can’t manage to put on shoes and grab her coat and hat while finishing her show. I asked her several times to grab her shoes in my encouraging mommy voice.
I switched off the tv to show her I meant business, then it all went downhill from there…
Nag, nag, nag. I was that mom. You know the one you wouldn’t want your friends to see. The one who defies all that you want to be as a parent as she says in an exasperated tone:
I told you so.
You always.
You never.
Why can’t you just?
I knew we shouldn’t have.
Don’t talk to me like that.
I don’t like your attitude.
I watched her face change to stubborn lines, listened to her mutter angry retorts under her breath, and it only made it worse. I rushed to get her out the door, impatiently prodding her, woke up her brother and bundled him into the car. I tried to make things better, explaining how things could be better in the future, but still had that nagging, accusatory tone in my voice.
We arrived at school, one friend pushing to get out first, his sister crying because she isn’t first, Ella demanding help getting the gloves on that she’s been holding the whole car ride instead of putting on like I asked when she left them behind in the house in the first place. Despite the fact that it would only take a moment to help with the gloves, I set her toward the classroom door telling her to just hurry into the warm building.
She refuses, shoves her empty backpack at me with one glove inside, insisting I help her. I am ashamed to admit it, but I tossed the bag on the ground as I hurried to help the other kids. Surely this would teach her to do what I ask the first time? Yeah, right. Who is the 4 year-old in this situation?
Contrite, I eventually helped her with the glove, leaned down to look her in the eye, and told her how much I love her. But I wanted to rewind it all. Try again. Be the mom I was at the breakfast table. She didn’t learn any positive lessons here about listening or showing that she can handle a tv show and get ready for school. Instead, she got a cranky, frustrated, accusing mother.
The amazing thing about my daughter is this: She’ll come home from school and forget that I was that mom. I’ll get a second chance to try again for the day as her favorite girl. This window of time to honor her trust is fleeting, so I plan not to waste it.
I think we all have those moments. And we learn from them and it makes us better mommies!
I am that mom more often than I care to admit. It’s nice to read this and know that we’re all in this together!
Oh, the joy of being the mother of such a child. Just remember she is still trying to figure out herself and her independance, you both will have good and bad days.
If it makes you feel any better, I recently got into a “quit touching me!” argument with my four year old as he was poking me with one toe on the couch and getting in my space. All parents are just overgrown children. We just pretend we’re above that.
We are all that mom sometimes. They need to see that side of us to. But you told her you loved her and in her eyes that was all that mattered!