Patience. It is something I like to think I have, but really
have very little. When it comes to my kids it can go away VERY quickly. When I lose my patience, I tend to be a
yeller. Not something I am proud of, but I admit and I am yelling mom.
Plus I have two girls who like to test the little patience that
I have very VERY often. This morning was one example. My youngest daughter is
four and has a lot of difficulty making decisions. I try to give her only two choices but even then it takes her forever to make up her mind. This morning was no exception
as she could not decide between the two shirts I gave her to choose from, the
two headbands and then the two choices of footwear.
We were getting ready to leave for preschool and I told her
to put on either her tennis shoes or her cowgirl boots. She hemmed and hawed for
five minutes and still was without something on her feet. I told her I was
going to the gas station and could take her to school as well, but she needed
to get something on her feet – some fit throwing and yelling ensued (by her,
not me). I removed myself from the meltdown and went into the garage to take
care of some recycling and put my purse in the car. When I turned around she
was standing on the steps with her boots in her hand. I figured that meant she
chose her boots and needed help putting them on.
Nope.
Instead she started freaking out again saying she didn't
want to wear them. With as much calmness as I could muster I told her that if
she chose NOT to wear the boots I was going to pick out her shoes. So, did she
want to wear the boots or not? No, she said. Then as soon as I started walking
in the house to get her some shoes she started yelling and screaming, “No, no, I do
want to wear them, I do want to wear them!”
Now I could have stopped turned around and given her the
boots to wear. But I have been down this road before. Many, MANY times. It
never ends well. If I were to give her the boots she would then say she DIDN’T
want them and we would go back and forth and then I would start yelling and
there would be tears (probably from both of us).
So I stuck to my guns, grabbed her tennis shoes and
struggled to get them on her feet as she literally kicked and screamed at me.
Then, I picked her up and she continued to kick and scream and buckled her in
her car seat. (This is very difficult to do with a kicking and screaming
four-year-old.)
We started backing out of the garage and she (still
screaming) began kicking the back of my seat. As calm as I could be I asked her
stop. She continued I began counting her and told her if I got to three I was
turning around and going home. I counted to one before the car was fully out of
the garage. By the time we reached the end of the driveway I was at two. Then
at the stop sign at the end of our street she kicked it again.
I knew I had a choice, I could turn the corner drive her to
school screaming and carrying on and be to school on time. Or I teach her a
lesson.
So I put the car in reverse and pulled into our driveway. In
a calm clear tone I told her we were not going anywhere until her voice sounded
like my voice and she said she was sorry.
Then the bargaining happened. She
cried and yelled that she would apologize
and calm down while I was driving. Nope, not falling for it. I waited. She
kicked the back of my chair again. I opened the garage door. More tears and
yelling. She kicked, I pulled into the garage. More tears and yelling.
“When your voice can sound like my voice and you tell me you
are sorry, we can go,” I calmly said again. She yelled and kicked. I turned off
the car and continued my mantra. And she yelled and kicked. I turned off the
car. She continued her routine. So did I.
I opened my door. Still she protested. I opened HER door.
She yelled and kicked some more. I unbuckled her car seat. She freaked, BUT she
didn’t kick.
I silently stood outside her door as she sniffled for a
solid five minutes. It was the longest minutes of my life. I wanted to jump up
and down yelling – “just say you’re sorry so I can take you to school. Don’t
you know how easy this can be fixed? Just say you are sorry!!” But I calmly
stood there and said nothing. I didn’t even look at her.
“Mommy, I want to give you a hug,” she said.
Whoa. Now what?? I had held my ground this long, did she
think a hug was going to end this stand-off? It was well-played on her part I
give her that, but I decided I wasn't giving in, mean as that may sound.
“I will give you a hug when you say you are sorry,” I told
her. I waited for another two minutes. Then in a voice just above a whisper I
heard it – “I’m sorry, Mommy.”
Hallelujah!!
I wanted to jump up and down and jabber on about how it is important
to say you’re sorry and all that but I decided to just be calm and concise. “Thank
you.” Then I gave her hug. (I may be mean, but I’m not a monster.)
I buckled her in, closed her door, got in the car and we
drove to preschool. It was a quiet ride, but there were no tears, no kicking
and we walked in to her school hand in hand. We were 10 minutes late, but that’s
ok. Hopefully the lesson I taught her was just as important as whatever she
missed in those 10 minutes.
Now I am exhausted … And I need an Oreo – or 12 …
You know what would be just as awesome as an Oreo? You clicking on the Top Mommy Blob logo at the top of my page to vote for me!! Thank you!
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