H&M kimono (similar); Old Navy pants and tee; Target sandals, old (similar) and tote, old (similar); Forever 21 sunglasses (similar); Saint Eve turquoise ring; Curious Creatures turquoise pendant.
This past weekend we went to Chicago for a couple of days for a little mini vacation. We had the best time, visited several museums, and ate the most amazing deep dish pizza of my life (seriously!) I also stood in that little glass enclosure at the top of the Willis tower and my knees shook for ten minutes after, (that thing was freaky!) Vacationing as a family can be awesome, but it can be overwhelming as well, especially when you take two very regimented and scheduled kids and sort of do the fly by the seat of our pants routine.
Which brings me to Sunday (Mother’s Day, to be exact.)
We went to the Museum of Science and Engineering and got to see some really cool hands on exhibits. The issues began when I brought my kids to the bathroom no less than 10 times in 6 hours, sometimes separate (because WHY would kids need to go at the same time), and often running through the museum frantically searching for a bathroom when my daughter had to go, RIGHT NOW. I tried to explain to her that it’s good to go when you get the chance, even if you don’t have to go that bad, instead of waiting till you just may pee your pants any second now. (Yes, bathroom discussions are daily thing in our world.)
Later that night we went to dinner and it was at a beautiful, crowded, noisy, and large Italian restaurant. We were literally squeezed in there like sardines. We sat down, got our drinks and I was just about to pick up my drink and take a sip, when Molly told me that she had to go to the bathroom, RIGHT NOW. I asked her if she could wait, she said no. Sighing, I put down my menu (and my deliciously free Peach Bellini), and stood up.
We winded our way through the tables and located the bathroom in the upstairs corner of the restaurant (is it always the farthest place possible?), where she sat and….didn’t have to go.
I lost it. I yelled at her for making me have to bring her up there and not actually really needing to go like she said, and for telling me she couldn’t wait, and I told her I REFUSED to bring her back to the bathroom again and she could just pee her pants in her seat. (I KNOW.) She tried to tell me that she was taking my advice and trying to go before she HAD to, but I was too mad to listen. She endued up crying all the way back to our table. (Insert mother of the year statement here.)
We ended up having a really great dinner and desert, and she recovered (she’s a forgiving sort), and ended the night on a good note in the hotel. It was then that decided to pick up where I left off in one of my favorite new books by Brene Brown, and opened it up exactly on a chapter on how shaming our kids hurts their sense of worth and creates a sense of being unlovable.
I almost died. SOMETHING made me read that chapter, randomly, at the very second I needed it. I felt horrible for what I had said and done to her when she had been trying so hard to take my advice. I never meant to make her feel less, or feel like I didn’t care. Yet I used my words and actions to shame her into thinking less of herself, and that is not okay.
The next morning I woke up and went right to her and apologized. I said that I had been really mad and said things I didn’t mean and that it wasn’t okay. I told her I was sorry for taking my anger and frustration out on her when she had even trying to do what I had asked. I asked her to forgive me, and she did, with a big squeeze-y hug and a kiss. Six year olds are pretty cheerful creatures when it comes down to it.
Raising this daughter of mine (and my son) is not easy. I make mistakes, often. I say things I shouldn’t, and behave in ways I wouldn’t tolerate from them. I apologize and hope that they know that I am trying, everyday, to be the best mom for them that I can be.
Luckily my kids are very forgiving and love me despite my flaws and mistakes, which is in essence the point of life, I think? Loving those around us wholeheartedly, and allowing them to see us in our most vulnerable (and flaw driven) moments.
Shop this look: