Do you ever have those moments in parenting where you observe or correct your child’s behavior and its so extreme (the behavior not the discipline) that you question if maybe they aren’t the issue, but instead it’s you?
This was me a couple of days ago.
We’re cramming through math for Sprite, readying her for a placement test for her new education venture in the fall, and satan stirs the pot.
Guttural, hateful screaming from Tempest (befitting, isn’t it) toward her sister, Banshee.
Unbelievable.
I step away from the fractions and head toward the commotion.
I’m met with the same level of screaming and hateful demeanor that was shared with her sister, and slathered with a few ‘I don’t cares’ thrown in there as well as I redirected.
Let’s not forget the facial expression that could turn even Medusa herself to stone.
I just stood there for a minute; incredulous.
WHAT IS HAPPENING?
WHO IS THIS KID?
Unfortunately, this was just the beginning of a constant 2-hour streak full of bitter, hateful words meant to cut everyone and everything down that was in her path of destruction.
After one encounter, she screamed at me while she stomped to her room, flinging the hallway gate closed and raging until she was in her bed.
At this point, she had been raging for over an hour.
I was emotionally exhausted.
I stood up from the table, grabbed my Parenting with Scripture book and opened it to topic of respect.
Above all, she has shown no respect to me (or her sisters) at all.
I wrote down ‘I will show respect to mommy with my words and actions’ and readied it for her to copy 5 times as part of a consequence.
Then I paused (best advice I’ve received as an enneagram 8 to help alter a possible, regrettable decision).
I took a deep breath, pushed away from the table where I was noticing my lack of love for fractions, and walked into the lion’s den.
“Go to the table.”
*screaming* YOU SAID I COULD GO TO MY ROOM WHEN I NEEDED TO TO CALM DOWN!
“You’re right. I did, but today it hasn’t helped. Get to the table.”
*stomping and muttering*
“Sit down and copy the sentence 5 times.”
She looks at the page, immediately complains and exclaims that she in fact will not copy the sentence and proceeds to push it violently across the table.
“You will remain at this table until the sentence is copied 5 times, then we will talk about it.”
*verbal attacking, victim speak, and all the feelings*
“Sweetie, you are allowed to feel angry. You know I have no problem with that, but the choices made when you’re angry have consequences.”
*continued verbal attacking*
I turned away, took a deep break, then Sprite asked me, “mommy, are you okay?”
*tears fill my eyes* “no, I’m not.”
Tempest started crying, “mommy, I’m sorry.”
She gets up from her chair and hugs me, but I wasn’t ready.
I know that might make me a horrible human being, but neither did I want to give her a trite hug.
So I said, “I accept your apology and I will give you a hug in a few minutes. I need a couple of minutes; I’m really mad right now.”
Those words were really difficult to say.
I wanted to give her a hug right away, but I was so worn and angry about everything that happened that morning, I needed space to make sure my hug was warm and not out of obligation.
I took a couple of minutes, breathed in and out, then pushed back from the table, and invited her over for a hug.
She melted.
She cried.
I cried.
This hug wasn’t a silver bullet.
We still had to work through the differences of feeling guilty and feeling repentant.
But it helped her know that her words hurt (even though I didn’t want her to see it), and that I will still hug her after she’s spent time and time again blasting me for any and everything.
Y’all.
Maybe it is me.
And maybe it’s learning to parent an entirely different soul than her sister.
And maybe it’s both.
Whew.
Parenting is hard.
Parenting is exhausting.
And parenting is redemptive – for her and myself – and for that, I am grateful.
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