It’s been a rough couple of days around here.
What happened? On their own, each of these stressors isn’t all that bad. But together, they created a nasty concoction. My daughter’s dance rehearsal ran late Wednesday night and we didn’t get home until 9:30 (two hours after her bedtime). With only a few days left of school, my papers-to-be-graded pile is frighteningly, tear-inducingly high and a constant source of stress. The weather has been damp, cool, and rainy for many days on end…. Am I forgetting something? Oh, yeah, my husband is out of town for 12 days.
From the moment I picked the kids up from school on Thursday, the whining and bickering began.
“When’s Daddy coming hoooooommme?”
“But I don’t WANT mac and cheese for dinner!!!” {Seriously, what kid says that?}
“YOU pick up my toys!”
“We don’t WANT to take a bath!”
“I don’t want to brush my teeth!”
“He’s touching me!”
“She looked at me!!”
“I don’t WANT that washcloth!”
“I want to sit in the front of the tub!”
“Mommy don’t wash my hair yet!”
Splash! Thrash! Splash!
I have reached the limit of my patience. It’s been hours of battles, whining, complaining, fighting, and NO!!! And now I’m soaking wet. “Get out of the tub! Now!”
More whining, fussing.
“NO! We want to PLAY!”
“You are not the BOSS!!” {My daughter’s favorite line of late}.
I am past my limit…
I let emotion and frustration take over. I yell. Scream. Loud. “JUST!!!! STOP!!!!”
Silence.
Looks of fear.
Then crying.
Then guilt.
I stepped out of the bathroom before more damage could be done.
A few moments later, my daughter emerged from her room, dripping wet in her pajamas.
“I’m sorry, Mommy.” She kissed me and apologized for her whining and splashing and “bad behavior.”
I knew what I had to do.
“I’m sorry too.” I said. “I shouldn’t have yelled.”
“You scared me,” she said.
“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry I scared you. Mommy was really frustrated. I should have responded better.”
I resisted my ego-protecting instinct to add something like, “But it was your whining and bad behavior that frustrated me and made me yell.” It wasn’t her fault. It was mine.
I owned my behavior, just as I expect her to own her behavior.
The three of us shared a hug, we snuggled, read a bedtime story, and I put two very tired children, and one exhausted mama, to bed.
*****
Yes, even us moms who blog about mindful parenting have our mindless parenting moments, when our emotions get the better of us. But, as Bethany E. Casarjian and Diane H. Dillon write in Mommy Mantras, “It’s not about what we do wrong as much as what we do next.”
As hard as it is to admit our mistakes to our children {and to our blog readers!}, it is an important part of the practice of parenting. This incident reminded me of the following line from Brene Brown’s Wholehearted Parenting Manifesto: “You [my child] will learn accountability and respect by watching me make mistakes and make amends, and by watching how I ask for what I need and talk about how I feel.” It was a moment of courage and vulnerability for me to admit to my children that I had acted inappropriately, that I hadn’t lived up to my expectations of myself as a mother.
But it is the moment of vulnerability that ultimately leads to deeper connection with our children. Brown encourages us to allow our children to help us “mind the gap,” and to live as “the adult [we] want our child[ren] to grow up to be.” I’m always teaching my children to “calm their bodies,” but I reacted with anger. I’m reassured by Brown’s assertion in Daring Greatly that “There is something sacred that happens between a parent and a child when the parent says, ‘Me too!’ or shares a personal story that relates to their child’s struggle.” I’m hoping I transformed a scared moment into a sacred one in admitting to my children that I, too, sometimes struggle with my anger.
For mindfulness, and mindful parenting, are practices. We continually work at them. And we can always begin anew. Every moment, every day.
*****
I wish I could end this post by saying the next morning was all smiles and rainbows, but it wasn’t.
“I don’t WANT that kind of cereal!”
“There’s NOTHING I want to eat!”
“You didn’t buy the right kind!”
My three year old {to his sister}: “You’re a poopy-butt!”
“Mom!! He called me a potty word!!”…
I recognized my physical signs of frustration ~ the deep, exasperated sighing, the quickening pulse, the temptation to snap at my children. So I said, “You know what I am feeling right now? I’m feeling really frustrated. But I am closing my eyes and breathing. [I demonstrate my deep breathing]. So I don’t yell. So I can help you. Can you guys try some deep breathing to calm down right now?”
I wish I could say the response was a sweet “Yes,” followed by a family calmly breathing together in peaceful silence. Instead…
“NOOOO!!!”
“I don’t WANT to calm down!”
Followed by my favorite…
“I AM BEING CALM!!!!”
But when I didn’t react with anger, and remained calm, things did quiet down in a few minutes. They ate their cereal and we went to school.
Ultimately, the most important way we teach our children about mindfulness is modeling it ourselves. Taking the time to breathe. Having the courage to apologize and admit to our own struggles. Making amends when we make a mistake. And starting anew each and every day.
- A Mindful Approach to New Year’s Resolutions - January 13, 2020
- Just This Next Step - December 16, 2019
- WAIT: A Mindfulness Practice for Waiting in Line - December 9, 2019
