As I write this, I am sitting outside my daughter’s gymnastics class, listening to the kids squeal and scream in delight.
For me it feels like such a relief, a break, after a battle to even get her close to on time for class. Tonight’s battle was actually a success relatively speaking.
Two weeks ago, it took her more than half an hour from the time I asked her to get dressed to actually getting in the car. It was 30 minutes of me asking – wait, let’s be real – nagging her every two minutes – okay let’s be real again, every minute, for her to get dressed or we were going to be late. Of course I also threatened that we wouldn’t go at all.
We finally made it to the gym, ten minutes late. I told her to apologize to her coach for being late, which she did.
When I sat down in the hallway to wait is when I was overcome with guilt. I felt horrible. Horrible for yelling and nagging. Tired from the battle. And ultimately mad at myself for not following through on my threat of not coming to gymnastics at all!
How many times in that 30 minutes did I say we wouldn’t go if she didn’t get ready quickly? Likely at least five times! Why didn’t I follow through and not go to gymnastics? Maybe I needed the break? Maybe I would feel more guilt if I took her gymnastics away from her? Maybe I didn’t want to deal with the subsequent freak out tantrum that almost certainly would have happened? Or maybe all of the above?
Yeah, that’s more likely.
Sometimes I don’t know what is worse – the 30 minute battle or the tantrum that follows the consequence, when I actually do follow through in other situations.
I was warned about age four. My sister said her kids didn’t go through the terrible two’s, it was the “bleepin’” fours! I couldn’t agree more!
The above story is just an example of the war of words I have faced in the last year. I know I am not alone. I also know I am not alone when I say my kid listens better to daddy that she does to mommy. My husband has spoken to numerous friends, as have I, and it seems it is the same story in many, if not most households. Mommy is the first one they come to when they are sad or hurt, but the last one they listen to.
It’s like they know they can play more easily on the female emotions. It’s like they know we don’t separate from their emotions very well. And they MUST know how much we beat ourselves up with guilty sticks!
Last week after bedtime battle #258, I was the one who walked away crying! Wait, what?! THAT is not supposed to happen.
I was done. Fried. Spent.
Whatever I am doing is NOT working. And I think what I am doing is not following through soon enough with the consequences. Just pull the plug, Jill! Rip the bandaid off!
But I feel so bad. And I don’t want to deal with a tantrum. Please just go to bed.
OMG, and it goes on and on. The external battle, the internal battle and mind games. It’s a roller coaster. A ride that is now exhausting, not exhilarating. And I need to get off it it, now.
What I am on board with is the constant love and affection we show our daughter, but it is time for me, in my mind, to step off of her roller coaster of emotions, to watch her ride and assist her when she needs.
I need to remember I am not her friend, I am her mother. And it is my job to raise her to be a polite, contributing member of society. That is the end goal.
So next time I am in the middle of the battle field, at the toughest moment, I will try so hard to follow through, to be the bad guy, to remember I am not her friend but her teacher. And most of all, I will burn those damn guilty sticks!
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