As I am sitting here writing this, my oldest is next to me writing sentences. "Sneaking is the same as lying." It's a flashback to childhood when I would have to write "I will not tell a lie" 100 times. I've only assigned her 10, and she's freaking out.
I have a theory that we have beautiful, amazing moments as parents. Those moments take our breath away and make the rest of the time completely worth it. Some of those beautiful moments become so etched in our memory they make it easier to forget the times in between. This moment, this isn't one of them.
Em has always been pretty well-behaved. She does well in school and her teachers tell me how sweet she is. She's coming out of her shell and loves making friends. And for the last 6 1/2 years she's been a very well behaved child. Cue first grade, and my rose colored glasses have been shattered into oblivion.
Suddenly everything I do as a mom isn't good enough. I'm "not fair, not fun, boring, mean, too bossy... blah blah " It's exhausting being such a horrible parent.
I hate discipline. It's my least favorite part of parenting. I think that we should all be happy and love each other all of the time. But we're human and it just doesn't happen. Instead there seem to be endless bickering arguments over really stupid stuff.
Today, the argument turned into me ignoring everything that came out of her mouth for fear I'd really lose my temper. We don't call each other names at home. We use silly names and kind names, but it's a rule that we never tell anyone they are stupid or ugly or dumb or anything of the sort. I like to think that if I've taught my kids anything, it's that being kind is the best way to solve problems.
So when Emmy started spewing insult after insult at me, I knew she learned it from her friends. And while she's really not very good at insulting me (she kept telling me I was a boy... her tone implied and insult, and I suppose I can see her logic... (0= ) the intention was still the same. That intention to hurt me with insults was both frustrating and, well, hurtful.
I already know tonight is going to be entertaining. Roy works nights and we usually pick a movie to watch together, since they don't have school. Not tonight. Tonight it's sentences, cleaning their room, a bath and straight to bed.
Part of me fears that this lesson will go unlearned. That despite how not-fun tonight is, she won't remember the lesson and we'll have this fight all over again. The same fear I had last time and the time before...
As I look over at her, I see her sneaking one last sentence onto her pencil-filled page: "Mom I'm Sory," (spelling error intentional). Maybe, maybe this moment will turn into one of the good ones.