February 19, 2021 I often have my blog topic picked out from something that happened during the week at the preschool. It’s on-point, relatable, and an easy segway from my recap of the week in my newsletter. This week I had a lot of ideas that had very little to do with the preschool and I didn’t know which direction to go. Should I write about the perils of decision-making? The value of trust? The season of Lent? So many choices, folks.
Then, on Wednesday, something cataclysmic happened at home that just flipped all of those ideas on their head. My sweet and lovely daughter, at the ripe age of 7, did something so infuriating I wanted to scream. Scream at her. Scream in general. Scream at my husband and myself for our crappy parenting. Just scream at this pandemic world that must have caused her to do this infuriating act. Instead, I took deep breaths and calmly tried to solve the world’s problems in my house with a stern tone and a loving hand. Bahahahaha…I just read what I wrote and laughed out loud. Seriously. Hahahaha. But I did – I held it together in my efforts to steer my child back into the ways of childhood living and woke up yesterday morning believing my husband and I had fixed it.
Then, yesterday afternoon, my sweet and lovely daughter, at the ripe age of 7, repeated the same exact infuriating act that had put her in a boatload of trouble yesterday, without a single thought, apparently. On Wednesday, she was sobbing hysterically and asking for forgiveness. Yesterday, she literally pretended it never happened and kept on living her sweet 7-year old life by doing the EXACT SAME THING that got her in so much trouble the day before. This time, I lost it. I shook with anger. I began gathering all her electronics and treasured items in the house, hoarding them away from her in my acts of retribution. I sent her to her room, banished only to lay on the bed and wait for me to calm down before I returned to talk to her, and even then, I simmered with rage that was barely on the surface. I kept thinking to myself, “Who is the child?”
“She is NOTHING like me.”
“I would never have done that.”
“Dear God, what if I’m raising a kid who doesn’t care about consequences?”
“Psychopaths don’t fear consequences OR people…”
Clearly, I was spiraling.
But I realized, in this moment of rage, that these are words I’ve silently spoken, or spoken aloud to my husband before. “She is nothing like me.” Unkind words from a momma who has only wanted her daughter to be just like her. Play soccer like her. Make her bed and pick up like her. Wear the same clothes as she did. Reads books all the time like she did. Instead, I have a daughter who hates kicking a ball, who thrives in a messy room and leaves a trail of dresses – NOT athletic gear – behind her, while she’s running to make sure she picks the first show on TV (certainly not a book). In my darkest of times as a parent, I look at her and wonder why she’s not more like me. And it’s super weird, because I am my own worst critic. Why do I want her to be like me, when sometimes I really can’t stand myself?
It’s really hard when you realize that your child isn’t like you – but more to the point, that they are not who you WANTED them to be. I have held onto this preconceived vision of who I want my children to be for so long, and especially as my daughter gets older, I’m starting to wonder…how do you let go of that “vision” and begin to embrace the beauty of what is?
Somehow, my sweet and lovely 7-year old has become her very own self. She is wonderful and blunderful all at the same time. Even though I am still mad at her as I write this blog, she is a super cool kid who is actually a lot of things I only WISH I was. She is comfortable in a crowd of new people. She tries all different types of food and new adventures. She has a unique, confident sense of style that is perfectly her and she is a gifted and creative artist and dreamer. And she is like me in ways that matter, I think. She’s fiercely loyal to and protective of people she loves. She loves hard and hurts just as hard. She strives for justice all around. She wears her emotions on her sleeves, seeks to please everyone around her, and has a newfound love of The Babysitter’s Club. <Trigger my swooning inner-child>.
Maybe this really is a Lenten season blog. This is a time for reflection, for prayer, for letting go and healing, after all. Maybe this is just my much-needed reminder to myself to let go. To let go of my preconceptions – of my daughter, of my parenting, of myself. To reflect on what is and embrace and celebrate my reality. God wants us to see what is really there – not what we wish was there. Otherwise, we miss out on all the super cool, wonderful, blunderful things that do exist. I’m wondering if all of the chaos in my house this week was a nudge from God, reminding me of this. I can always use a good nudge – or a solid punch – from God to help me keep things in perspective and focus. And I think, after this week, my daughter could use a good nudge from God, too. I think 2 weeks without screens may help her feel that nudge, right? Ha!
Until next time…
PS. My daughter did not do anything that bad. Really. She’s still a sweet and lovely child, who is all mine. I am a lucky mom.