I’m not very good at this in real life. It’s not to say I don’t try very hard. But sometimes, all the knowledge in the world can do nothing to counteract the very human feelings I’m experiencing when, say, a child is screaming at me for being overbearing—which might be fair if we weren’t running 20 minutes late after multiple alarms, timers, and gentle reminders to do whatever we need to do to get out the door in time.
For example:
I substitute teach. I used to only do this at my kid’s school so we were all headed to the same place in the morning. I decided they were old enough this year to branch out. This has proved to be a less-than-easy transition. However, I know that changes in routine can be difficult. So I’ve been talking to them about this change for a month or so now. I’ve been explaining my expectations on days I need to be out the door before them.
This has proved a nearly fruitless effort. Today, I woke up before the sun, showered, and tried to look less like a bridge troll who has never left her bridge and more like a respectable adult. This is a stretch on the good days; but today, it felt almost impossible. I woke up the younger kids before I even stepped into the shower. They laid clothes out the night before. All they needed to do was take the dogs out, get dressed, and eat breakfast. The same three things they do . . . Every. Single. Day.
But today, I needed to be out the door at a specific time. This is apparently an unacceptable situation. I went to my girls’ room to remind them (after several alarms and timers sounding) to finish their morning routine. My oldest pre-teen (11 going on 27) decided I had asked her to do one too many things. So, she screamed at me to shut up and stop bothering her. And I wish this is where I could say I was a great mom and took a deep breath, counted to 10, and responded in a mature, thoughtful way.
Dear reader, That is not what I did. What I did do was shout back that since she hadn’t done what she needed to do, it was my job to remind her and she had no right to yell at me. Which would have been fine if I hadn’t been, you know, yelling at her. So, instead of motivating her to move more quickly and do what she needed, I did the opposite. She began shouting about how much she hated me, how terrible I am (which, let me tell you, I was feeling at this point), and she made a point to slow down.
Thankfully, everyone else was more or less ready to go. But, the damage was done. My calm, cool, organized morning was now in shambles. I arrived at work mid-panic attack, heart racing, cold sweat for days. So, you know, good first impressions all around. Okay, I’m exaggerating. It was mostly in my head that I was freaking out, so I think I made an ok impression.
The point is, I knew I shouldn’t yell. I know that rushing her makes her do the opposite. I know she needs to feel in control. And yet, my personal anxiety about getting to work on time, my fatigue from several nights of insomnia and an early wake-up call, and some truly horrific stress factors besides, I was not on my A-game. I wasn’t on my D game ya’ll. Truly.
So, tonight I’ll need to apologize when she’s ready to listen. I need to try again to be calm, gentle, and loving. I know in my head that she was just as stressed as I was to get out the door. She doesn’t like changes. She doesn’t like knowing I won’t be home if she needs me. Never mind that she most likely won’t need me. She feels good and safe knowing I’m at home where she can call if she has to.
My other daughters dealt with this in different, less loud ways, but were equally perturbed. My youngest followed me around all morning like a baby duckling. She asked so many questions and offered me what she deemed was sage advice. She insisted she help me find my shoes and checked my clothes to see if they were nice.
My middle daughter paid extra attention to getting herself ready. She was ready before I was and had done everything she needed to before I reminded her. That’s her way of controlling the situation she’s uncomfortable with.
So, I know that we were all dealing with stress of a new schedule different ways. I’m hoping I can heal the feelings I hurt this morning. It always takes twice as much time to repair things than it would have to do it the right way. But, I’m a human which makes me an imperfect everything. Try as I may, I’m no android programmed to be a perfect mom. So, I’ll try and try again. We’re all learning.
I guess what I want to say is that I can write pages and pages of information and anecdotes about what it means to be a good parent to a child from trauma, but sometimes it’s all a bit too much and I don’t respond the right way. And, to an extent, that’s ok. We’re all learning. And hopefully, I’m teaching them that even if mom makes a mistake she’ll apologize and try to make it right. So, maybe one day when they have kids they’ll do this whole mom thing better than I am. I don’t want them to need to unlearn bad patterns so I’m trying to be good and not continue the generational trauma patterns of the generations before me. But, I’m not perfect.
And I guess, that’s going to need to be ok.
