After I completely flipped my wig, lost all sense of propriety, left the table and then returned a few minutes later as only furious instead of irrationally irate, my kids did their best to clarify exactly what they meant by comparing me to a less than considerate woman on a decorative plaque. It was a difficult moment for all of us. Apparently, they think it's amusing that I communicate in a direct manner and usually go after whatever I want. This characteristic of mine, they say, is not selfish ... just obvious. And they think it's funny. Like the plaque is funny. Humph.
Apologies were made for misunderstandings, hugs were exchanged, I assured them I wasn't angry with them and then I went home and sat and stared at the wall and let a couple of tears get by without brushing them away. My thoughts were reflective. Have I been a tyrant of a mother? Do I not listen to what they want? Are my standards for their behavior too high? Do I seem aloof too often? I know I have a tendency disappear into my mind ... have I really shut them out? Is my discipline too harsh ... too pointed, too extreme or simply unwarranted?
Maybe they don't have the ability yet to express what they really think of their mom and when they get older, these are the things they will say about me. Maybe I overwhelm them with my own personality extremes and all they know is that they think I'm selfish. My husband lovingly assures me I am not these things that I worry about.
And as a friend, I bet you'd say to me, "Nah, Melody, listen. You're just being a good mom. It's not an easy job. Your kids are bound to disagree with your parenting from time to time. They're preteens for crying out loud!"
And if I could just depend on reason, I'd agree with you completely. But I worry.
I was sitting outside on the drive tonight after my walk. The evening air was crisp with a little breeze. I turned to my right to look up at the beautiful moon and stars and confessed to God that I'm so worried. I'm worried about my kids in ways I can't even express in words. As I felt the weight of the emotion, I just said the words, "God, I'm so worried about them." And a little breeze blew across my face right then ... mainly because the rest of my body was covered from head to toe, but the little breeze caught my attention anyway and I remembered something encouraging my son said in the car earlier that day.
He had just called off a "relationship" with a sweet little girl a couple of days before and he said, "You know Mom, I just realized something about dating girls. Her personality is way more important than her looks. You've got to be able to marry someone you know you can be the best of friends with."
Maybe it was my "selfish" side that reminded him that looks are still kind of important (as I grinned slyly) but I was certainly relieved to hear this particular thought on dating, that this was his latest conclusion. I'll willingly take emotional punches to the gut all day just as long as he keeps coming up with these kinds of revelations.
Anyway, this parenting stuff is tough and it's wearing me out.
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