Post 116 - Isn't it Amazing How We Can Learn Lessons from Our Children?

       

                   

 

                                                     A picture of Nicole and her brother.  

        Attempting to divide my time between my daughter, Nicole, and her older brother, Kyle, I sat between them like a piece of salami on a sandwich. Kyle grumbled about not understanding another math problem, so I leaned over to help him. Overall, he remembered a lot from first grade, so I was thankful that there were no outbursts or meltdowns that day. Nicky had chosen to work out of her 'My Little Pony coloring book, so I returned to filling in the pony's body light purple as she had ordered, and she busied coloring the legs and face, past the lines, of course, a bright red.

    At times, I felt like I had to be Super Woman to ensure I allotted my time between my kids. Sometimes I was perfect; other times, I would give myself a 'D,' too tired after a day's work. Kyle required more of my energy because he had many learning problems, including Attention Deficit Disorder, as we learned a year later. 

     I glanced at my watch; it was already time to start dinner. Mr. Time seemed to pass by even quicker now that I have children. I pulled from the refrigerator the salad makings and the bowl of chicken soaking in Teriyaki Sauce.

     "I'm going to help you with dinnew," Nicky said,  having difficulties pronouncing a few consonants. A trait that runs on my side of the family, a comment Alan had made often to tease me.

     "You are? I'd like that." After pouring the olive oil into the frying pan, I turned the heat on low. The burner made a clicking sound,  making me do a little bunny hop backward. Quickly, I turned the burner off and turned the knob again, careful not to turn the burner down too low.

     I glanced over at Nicole as she grabbed a few crayons and stuffed them into the box; a few spiraled onto the table, so she scooped them up again, achieving her goal. I threw the celery, carrots, broccoli, and beans into the sink and started washing them. Thump, thump, thump, Nicky scooted her chair over the terracotta tiled floor towards the center kitchen island. Kyle had finished his homework and disappeared upstairs to play. 

      "I want to help," she said, so I told her she could help me dry the vegetables and handed her a clean dish towel. At four, Nicole had shot up this last year and was much taller than Kyle had been at her age.

     Nicole was excited about sharing her day, and as usual, she chattered as fast as a locomotive flying down the tracks at high speed. With her speech impediments, I found it difficult to follow what she was saying that evening. Usually, I'd have the energy to ask her to slow down. However, that night was not one of those nights because my brain was stuffed with work. Once we taught her brother to stop talking for her, she started chattering like crazy as if to make up for the lost time. I loved listening to her excited Minnie Mouse voice most of the time, but sometimes it pierced the fog in my overactive brain, and that night was one of those nights.

     While Nicole was ripping the lettuce leaves into ant-sized pieces and throwing them into the salad bowl, I cut up the vegetables while I mentally reviewed what I would teach to my students tomorrow. I had four different lesson plans to worry about five days a week, which was a bit overwhelming. 

     It was difficult to concentrate as Nicole kept jabbering on, still not used to how much Nicole talked now. Kyle had a habit of thinking he had to be her interpreter or spokesperson, which was cute for a while, but we realized this wasn't good for her because she was behind developmentally with her speech, but not anymore. Now our little lady talked like crazy as if to make up for the lost time. Wah, I just remembered that I still had some English essays to correct that evening which I had already put off for a few days.

   "Mama, yew not listening to me," Nicole whined. Instantly, I snapped back into the now as if I had been hit by a volleyball. Frozen in the middle of ripping some lettuce, my beautiful daughter stared at me. Her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

   "Yes, I am," I reassured her.

   She quipped back like the clever little girl she was, "No, you not."

   I continued to chop the carrots. I inquired, furrowing my eyebrows, "How do you know I'm not listening?" sounding like a detective. The hot oil sputtered as I placed the chicken breasts gingerly into the pan, dashing to set the splatter screen on top of the skillet before the oil spits out any more commentaries.

     She answered with surprising insight for such a little girl, "Cuz you keep saying, Uh, huh all de time." 

     I froze. The obnoxious fluorescent lights from above seemed like a spotlight illuminating my guilt-ridden face. I looked into her angelic face only to detect, this time, a worried look. A jab of guilt surprised my heart. Oh, my God, I had become, an uh, huh parent, something I had promised myself I would never be. Years earlier, my junior high English students complained about their parents being too busy to listen to them, so they'd say, uh, huh while their teen was attempting to talk to them.

    Teary-eyed, I embraced my bright daughter and kissed her on her curly head. "You're right! I'm so sorry that I wasn't listening. I made a mistake. Please always remind me when I do that. Promise me." I genuinely was furious at myself. If I had the ability to kick myself in my little butt right then, I would have, and I would have deserved it. 

     Her dimples outshone her smile. Semi-curly hair bounced up and down as she nodded her head, "I pwamise." I loved listening to her mispronounce her 'r's.  

     "Sometimes mommy's head gets so busy with school stuff and family things that it's hard to be a good listener. Start all over again, and this time I'll really, really listen. I promise!"  I was surprised by how furious I was at myself but overjoyed that Nicole could express her feelings and that I was open to respecting them and apologizing, at least that time. I tweaked her cheek, and she giggled.

     "We lewned colows today."  

     "That sounds like fun. She started throwing my sliced carrots and tomatoes into the salad bowl. What's your favorite color?"

     "I don't know, maybe wed."

     "I love that color too, but your dad hates it."

     She giggled, "Why?"

     "I think it's just because his father didn't like it." She frowned and then shrugged.   

     One of the easiest mistakes as a parent, I learned it's challenging to slow down and remember to apologize when an error is made. We get caught up in life and forget to write ourselves a note, so we don't forget. Sometimes Alan would tease me because now I write reminders on my hand, or have a few pieces of paper hanging around. I tell him it's because I must deal with that issue that day. ( I know I need to learn how to take notes on my phone.)

     Here are a few ideas about apologizing, just in case you need a refresher. I'm gleaning some of the ideas from this fabulous website which also offers free material and a parenting workshop for a charge written by Amy McCready, a  nationally recognized parenting expert who has written many books. https://www.positiveparentingsolutions.com/parenting/apologizing-to-your-child

Some suggestions when an apology is in order:  (Works well with spouses/friends too.)

1. Own your feelings and take responsibility for them. Sometimes it's okay to be upset or frustrated.        However, it's how we respond to those feelings that aren't okay. It's not alright to yell, punch a wall, slam a door, spank or punch a wall. Your kids are watching and listening: remember, they learn by watching you, plus your reactions could be frightening to them, so it will cause trauma.

2. Connect the way you feel to your action or use appropriate words. In your apology, explain why you felt that way and why it was wrong to react the way you did. In other words, what caused you to react that way? Please do not blame your child for hurting your foot because you tripped over his or her toy they left in the middle of the floor. (Mixing an apology and blame together….not good. This way, your children will learn that they can't act or say inappropriate things either.)

3. Acknowledge that you hurt or scared your child. If the adult's action was based on something the child did or didn't do, explain that your love for him/her is not based on being perfect.

4. Share how you plan to avoid this situation in the future. "I will give you one warning. then if you        don't stop what you are doing, I will ask you to sit in your room for 5 or 10 minutes." This is a perfect opportunity to teach your child how to learn from his or her mistakes to improve themselves. Be specific in what you aim to do to avoid blaming others or yelling. 

5. Always….always… ask for forgiveness.

     Good luck, and remember, all of us are a work in progress, so don't get upset with yourself when you make a mistake.