Because I Care

It was 5:00 p.m. The sitter would be arriving in about 45 minutes. The house was a mess, but no one seemed to notice (or EVER seems to notice) but ME. So I start "picking up" all the stuff that does not belong in the general family area. And by "general family area" I mean KITCHEN TABLE (Why in the world does everything end up on the table?! You know, the place where we're supposed to eat?!)

So while I'm sweeping through the house with arms full of toys, socks, shoes, kleenex, and the like ... Henry's in the shower, Amanda's kickin' back on the couch watching TV, and Megan's working on a curly ribbon "craft".

Megan: Mom, can you help me curl this ribbon?

Me: Not right now, no.

Megan: Just real quick. Can you show me how to curl the ribbon?

Me: NO. Can't you see that I'm trying to put away all this STUFF (read "crap") before the sitter gets here? Oh sure, I'd like to fix my hair before it's time to leave, but nooooo I'm doing THIS instead.

Megan (clearly not understanding her role in this guilt trip I was trying to take her on): Well, any mom who cared would help her daughter curl ribbon.

Me: Ugh. Gimmie the scissors.

I stopped what I was doing and curled some ribbon. Why? I wish I could give you a noble reason, but the truth is ... the thought came to me: If I died in a car accident tonight (because I'm optimistic like that), do I want her last memory to be that of me refusing to curl her ribbon, so I could continue running around the house like the Tasmanian Devil? Uh, no.

The lamest part about all this? It took me all of 15 seconds to curl her ribbon. Mmm hmmm. All that huffing and puffing because I didn't think I could stop to help my daughter with something that took a measly 15 seconds!

Pathetic.

I'm MEAN!!

The drive home yesterday afternoon could have been better, but what else is new?

Megan: Mom, where's my bag with the candy corns on it?

Me: I don't know.

Megan: It was IN your OFFICE.

Me: Well, if it was IN my OFFICE, then it's in one of 4 places: your backpack, your sister's backpack, my purse, or this little suitcase thingy.

Megan: It's not in my backpack!

Amanda: It's not in mine either.

Megan: Let me check your purse.

Me: Here.

Megan: IT'S NOT IN HERE EITHER!! YOU LOST MY BAG!!

Me: First of all, you haven't checked the suitcase thingy. Second of all, YOUR candy corn bag is not MY responsibility. I cleaned up all of YOUR stuff, which I didn't have to do. If it's that important to you, you should have kept track of it.

Megan: You're MEAN!!

Me: Uh huh.

I then looked in the suitcase deal while I was stopped at a red light. Whataya' know? There was the bag she was looking for.

Me: Look what I found.

Megan: Thank you, Mommy!!

Me: Uh huh.

About 10 minutes pass.

Megan: Mom, can we go to that Pizza Hut with the Squinkie vending machines before we go home? I want to use a quarter to get another Squinkie.

Me: No, we can't.

Megan: WHY NOT?!

Me: Because I'm MEAN, remember?

Yeah, that went over well.

Okay, I am so getting this t-shirt for Christmas.

And is it just me, or is that a man modeling a "Mean Mom" t-shirt? Hmm. Still getting it.

The Silver Lining

So I got a call from Megan's teacher yesterday afternoon. It was not a social call. Without going into details, I'll just say that I was mortified by what I heard. I hung up the phone and thought, "What next? How in the world will I survive a lifetime of phone calls like this? How big of an ulcer will I end up with anyway?"

Yeah ... NOT a happy afternoon.

I picked Meg up from school, and she was obviously upset. She knew she was in trouble. Do you remember that feeling? It's terrible, isn't it? Making a poor choice as a kid, then your parents find out, THEN you have to wait until "the talk" and THEN the punishment. Ugh! Why does life have to be so dang hard?

When we got back to my office, I told Meg that I was not going to talk to her about what happened right then (because I knew someone might walk in on us, and I didn't want her to be embarrassed.) She looked at me, almost pleading. I said, "Unless you want to talk about it now?" She nodded her head. I completely understood. Rip the bandaid off already!

I said what I needed to say, and she was more receptive than any other time I've had to "talk" to her about bad behavior. As it turned out, I was actually able to tell her something that I've been meaning to tell her, but hadn't yet and that was this: That no matter what she does in this lifetime, no matter how bad or terrible it is, I will always love her. Sure I might be mad or disappointed in her behavior, but there is absolutely nothing she could ever do that would make me not love her.

Based on her expression, I don't think she'd ever realized that before. Somehow I think she thought my love was conditional, which is so sad to me. Perhaps this is what it took to finally make her understand that a mother's love is forever.

So, what started as a nightmarish afternoon, turned out to be a gift for both of us. Thank You, Lord!