I opened my cabinets that contain my stamps and card making supplies, and called Taryn to my bedroom to help me carry the armloads of colorful ink pads, cute scissors, patterned papers, and raffia (one can never have too much raffia) to the kitchen. She came after I called three times. Super Me didn't let that ruin my mood. After all, we were about to have mommy-kid perfection. We had about three trips to make, but after the first trip, Taryn never came back. Trevor had been getting dressed, and then joined me to help carry some more stuff. Then Taryn ran back to me in the bedroom, my arms full again with supplies and announced, "I'm done. Come see my card." Thoughts were flying through my mind. She's done? We haven't even brought all the stuff out there yet. I haven't even cut the card stock into card-sized pieces, how is she done? Super Me said, "OK honey, let me put all of this stuff down THAT I DIDN'T EVEN SET UP FOR US YET, and then you can show me." She showed me her card. It was cute, but had been finished in a rush. Oh well, we could make more. Then she said, "Oh, and you need to fix these stamp pads."
It was a simple statement of fact, and said so airily that she may as well have said, "Oh, and I want marshmallows for dessert". It caught me off guard though, and I felt an anxiousness in my chest that is all too familiar. Super Me slowly gave way to Plain Old Me, and I could feel it coming on. It started off slowly, "Taryn? Why didn't you wait for me to help you open the stamp pads? These are tricky ones, and I expected to help you." The words were calm, but there was a tension in my voice. She just shrugged in reply. As I had been talking, I had been trying to fix the ink pads. I held the red color in my hands. It was in two separate pieces. These particular ones are meant only to slide open and closed and never to actually be separated at all, and I tried to force them back together. I was getting ink all over my hands, and all over the parts of the ink pads that are not supposed to be inky. I was also getting revved up. "I just don't understand why you couldn't wait." I said again, louder. Then, in an instant, my mouth had taken over my brain and was running the show. "You always do this. You always have to be the first one to do everything, and make sure you get the first choice of the colors, and you never wait. It's all about rushing and being first AND IT'S SELFISH. Now instead of you and Trevor having a fun morning of Mommy-Kid time you are getting to watch me GET ANGRY AT INK PADS! HOW"S THAT WORKING FOR US ALL?"
The kids were quiet. Trevor announced that he felt bad for Mommy, and Taryn quietly said she was sorry. I just walked out of the room, too late, for a mommy time out. I knew I was making a big deal about nothing. I knew I said things that would hurt my little girl's heart, and that those stupid ink pads had been sitting there in the cabinet in my room for a year, and that even if they were broken it wasn't important. I was disappointed in myself, and in Taryn. She really does tend to rush, and put herself first, and break things. Mostly, I was disappointed in Super Me. I had big plans for a perfect day because every other day I have so much going on that I have reasons to justify impatience, and imperfection in my parenting. On this perfect, lazy, rainy, peaceful day that I had set aside just for me and my angels, there was no excuse. And even with no excuses, I couldn't be perfect. Not even for, like, 5 minutes. Super Me, exit stage left.
I came back out to the kitchen where Trev was waiting quietly at the table. Taryn had moved to the couch and was reading a book. I called to Taryn to come join us, but she said she was afraid she would break something else. My heart sank, and so I went to my little girl, and picked her up, and told her that no one is perfect. That even when she is trying her best, she will make mistakes and she will break things, and that sometimes when that happens I will get mad because I'm not perfect either. I told her that even when I'm upset, and even though things might get broken, that I still want her to try again, and I still want her around. Every time. For forever. And she told me I hurt her feelings, and I told her that I was wrong, and so sorry. She told me I made her feel bad, and I told her that was the point. We both laughed at that. It was the point. I got too upset, and too loud about it. I should have been able to help her to feel badly about her behavior without being ugly to her, but I did want her to feel badly about what she did. I was wrong to yell, but she was wrong to be impatient and rush. She understood, and kissed my cheek. Then I kissed her little nose where it wrinkles when she laughs, and we made a big mess of that kitchen. We made pretty cards, and ugly ones, and plain old me with all of my imperfections made perfect memories with my family...covered in ink, and giggling, and being together.
And we were on top of the world.
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