There is that day, you know the one, when you hit that wall of frustration with your kids and you have to find a better way? Today is that day.
I refuse to be outsmarted or manipulated by children anymore. A war of creativity has been declared, let the games begin. After all, I am older and wiser, am I not? I have survived 24 years as a stand up comic, working seedy gigs, with shady people, I have managed to keep doing the thing I love, while I am still a stay at home mom. That took some doing, why can’t I make my kids do what I want? How can this be so challenging? It is a daily battle, and I know the outcome, and I will be red faced and frustrated as they shrug off their crazy mother. So, how do I this differently? Today, my 17 year old son, stood right and front of me and emptied the sand from his shoes onto my carpet. Now I realize my carpet most likely has its own life cycle by now, but still, really, right in front of me? It was like he just could not differentiate between the outdoors and my living room. Then he asked for me to find him socks that match, and I took great pleasure in saying, “I do not want to deprive you of a chance to be responsible.” He grumbled as he walked away, and I felt much better for not yelling, “find it yourself, I am not the maid, are your arms broken?” His once white socks take up a lot of space in my head. It is mathematically impossible to have as many strays as we do here. No, really, you have no idea how many unmatched socks he has. Why couldn’t I be one of those really together moms who always buys the same socks, so there are never any mismatches? I will tell you why. For one, I could never remember where I bought the previous ones or what brand they were, he is lucky I remember to buy them at all. All I know, is I am always hopeful when I bring home that little hygienic bag, stuffed with all those white as the driven snow socks. So, when he asks ME to find him socks, I get to release a little resentment for all the socks I have ever seen scattered over the house, when I refuse to help him. Really, if he took even 1% of the time he spends watching motocross, or men eating gigantic portions of food, on YouTube, and matched his socks, that are currently overflowing out of his cubby, (you know those little spaces in closets for organizing) ha, what a joke that is; he would have enough socks to last until he was growing hair out of his ears. So, today when he gets home, he will be vacuuming the entire house, before he does any surfing on YouTube.
As soon as he walks out the door in the morning, my 12 year old daughter wakes up to some screeching song on her cell phone that she begged me for. I finally caved, under the pretense of at least I will know where she is after school. This phone is now my enemy. I wonder who she is talking to, and why? She was texting while doing homework last night, and I told her to stop it. She proudly told me she was “multi-tasking,” as though she was some student of the new age. I cannot shelter her from everything, but I still want to. I am not ready to have my baby splitting off from me, but she is. Fake finger nails have become her latest obsession. Am I a bad mom because I let her buy them with her own money? I remember being 12 and making fake finger nails out of clay and paper, and holding my hands upside down in the bathtub while watching the droplets of water hang from the tips of my nails, making them look longer, sexier, better. Yes, I have very clear memories of how much I wanted pretty nails, but my parents would not even allow me to wear nail polish at that age. As she waved her pretty little hands (the ones that just yesterday had dimples in them), in front of me this morning, clearly feeling better about herself than if she were just herself, I felt sad but also secretly coveted those nails. I cannot contain or squash this budding young woman, but I absolutely most teach her how to be okay as is. Is that possible? Am I an idealist here? I cringe thinking about her always wanting something outside of herself to make her happy. They all have little “boyfriends” at school, and I am sure it is harmless, but I fear for what is yet to come. We argue a lot these days, and I am digging down deep to get creative. When I feel myself pushed up against that familiar wall, and I want to get bigger than her with my emotion, I will do my best to say, “I love you too much to fight with you.”
I have been driving my kids to school for nearly 13 years, and in less than two months that part of our lives will be over. Our drive can either be the 6 minutes of shame drive, or one of love and listening. I am committed to make it the latter. It is all going so fast now, and I have flashbacks of all the parents who looked at me with envy when my kids were little while saying, “appreciate it, they grow so fast.” Whoever those people were, they were right. I feel like I want to appreciate, sculpt and be present for all the moments yet to come. Have I taught them enough, did I tell them to dry between their toes, or the right way to floss, or to pray or meditate?
As I walked out of the house this morning, looking at the vitamins my son leaves behind every morning, the dirty white sock in the hall, the fake fingernails and all the paraphernalia that goes with them, all over my counter, the overweight pug that I implore my son to walk everyday, the clutter on the bulletin board from all the things they have accomplished, I get in my car on this sunny, spring morning, and vow to be more detached, pick my battles, realize I cannot control it all, but I can change my attitude, and just for today, I did. I will give it a go tomorrow too!
I refuse to be outsmarted or manipulated by children anymore. A war of creativity has been declared, let the games begin. After all, I am older and wiser, am I not? I have survived 24 years as a stand up comic, working seedy gigs, with shady people, I have managed to keep doing the thing I love, while I am still a stay at home mom. That took some doing, why can’t I make my kids do what I want? How can this be so challenging? It is a daily battle, and I know the outcome, and I will be red faced and frustrated as they shrug off their crazy mother. So, how do I this differently? Today, my 17 year old son, stood right and front of me and emptied the sand from his shoes onto my carpet. Now I realize my carpet most likely has its own life cycle by now, but still, really, right in front of me? It was like he just could not differentiate between the outdoors and my living room. Then he asked for me to find him socks that match, and I took great pleasure in saying, “I do not want to deprive you of a chance to be responsible.” He grumbled as he walked away, and I felt much better for not yelling, “find it yourself, I am not the maid, are your arms broken?” His once white socks take up a lot of space in my head. It is mathematically impossible to have as many strays as we do here. No, really, you have no idea how many unmatched socks he has. Why couldn’t I be one of those really together moms who always buys the same socks, so there are never any mismatches? I will tell you why. For one, I could never remember where I bought the previous ones or what brand they were, he is lucky I remember to buy them at all. All I know, is I am always hopeful when I bring home that little hygienic bag, stuffed with all those white as the driven snow socks. So, when he asks ME to find him socks, I get to release a little resentment for all the socks I have ever seen scattered over the house, when I refuse to help him. Really, if he took even 1% of the time he spends watching motocross, or men eating gigantic portions of food, on YouTube, and matched his socks, that are currently overflowing out of his cubby, (you know those little spaces in closets for organizing) ha, what a joke that is; he would have enough socks to last until he was growing hair out of his ears. So, today when he gets home, he will be vacuuming the entire house, before he does any surfing on YouTube.
As soon as he walks out the door in the morning, my 12 year old daughter wakes up to some screeching song on her cell phone that she begged me for. I finally caved, under the pretense of at least I will know where she is after school. This phone is now my enemy. I wonder who she is talking to, and why? She was texting while doing homework last night, and I told her to stop it. She proudly told me she was “multi-tasking,” as though she was some student of the new age. I cannot shelter her from everything, but I still want to. I am not ready to have my baby splitting off from me, but she is. Fake finger nails have become her latest obsession. Am I a bad mom because I let her buy them with her own money? I remember being 12 and making fake finger nails out of clay and paper, and holding my hands upside down in the bathtub while watching the droplets of water hang from the tips of my nails, making them look longer, sexier, better. Yes, I have very clear memories of how much I wanted pretty nails, but my parents would not even allow me to wear nail polish at that age. As she waved her pretty little hands (the ones that just yesterday had dimples in them), in front of me this morning, clearly feeling better about herself than if she were just herself, I felt sad but also secretly coveted those nails. I cannot contain or squash this budding young woman, but I absolutely most teach her how to be okay as is. Is that possible? Am I an idealist here? I cringe thinking about her always wanting something outside of herself to make her happy. They all have little “boyfriends” at school, and I am sure it is harmless, but I fear for what is yet to come. We argue a lot these days, and I am digging down deep to get creative. When I feel myself pushed up against that familiar wall, and I want to get bigger than her with my emotion, I will do my best to say, “I love you too much to fight with you.”
I have been driving my kids to school for nearly 13 years, and in less than two months that part of our lives will be over. Our drive can either be the 6 minutes of shame drive, or one of love and listening. I am committed to make it the latter. It is all going so fast now, and I have flashbacks of all the parents who looked at me with envy when my kids were little while saying, “appreciate it, they grow so fast.” Whoever those people were, they were right. I feel like I want to appreciate, sculpt and be present for all the moments yet to come. Have I taught them enough, did I tell them to dry between their toes, or the right way to floss, or to pray or meditate?
As I walked out of the house this morning, looking at the vitamins my son leaves behind every morning, the dirty white sock in the hall, the fake fingernails and all the paraphernalia that goes with them, all over my counter, the overweight pug that I implore my son to walk everyday, the clutter on the bulletin board from all the things they have accomplished, I get in my car on this sunny, spring morning, and vow to be more detached, pick my battles, realize I cannot control it all, but I can change my attitude, and just for today, I did. I will give it a go tomorrow too!
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