I like to think that I am very nearly the parent I want to be. Do I have things to work on? Yes. Am I flawed? Extraordinarily. But I sincerely believe that is part of showing The Kidling what it means to be a strong woman: modeling self-love in spite of flaws and failures.
One of my flaws obviously being my affinity for alliteration.
But I have days. Holy shit do I have days. And let’s face it: those
months weeks days are far better blog fodder than the good ones. One of those days was a particularly exhausting one. It involved errands, chores, and general crap. We returned home late and I hoped to get her straight to bed, but… she was a mess and really needed a shower.
Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! With constant
harassment reminders from The Mama, The Kidling got in, screwed around in the water cleaned up, and got out.
Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! I gave her two minutes to use the toilet, wash her hands, and brush her teeth. Yes, I know this is irrational. Yes, I know that is impatient. Recall, Dear Reader, that this is a story of one of those days.
Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! I gave warnings.
Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! The one minute warning was accompanied by a grouchy yell from down the hall, courtesy of The Mama. Then, the clock ran out. I marched my frustraed, irrational ass* into the bathroom, took the toothbrush out of her tiny hand and told her she was finished.
“Why?” She asked, on the brink of tears at the injustice of having her toothbrush whisked away without explanation.
“Because your time is up.”
The Grump The Mama replied.
“Oh. I didn’t know,” she explained in a voice full of sincerity. “You didn’t have to yell at me because I knew I had one minute and I don’t know time!”
The Kidling was earnest.
The Mama was humbled.
The Dada was right:
“She makes a valid argument,” he noted.
Indeed she does.
* You read that correctly. At this point, even my ass was ticked off.