As we all know, the end of summer stirs up feelings of melancholy and sadness in me. With the first day of school on the immediate horizon, my vision of an ideal world rears its ugly head and I am filled with an intense need to cram fun, memory making events into the span of a few days. Frolicking in the meadow with a picnic basket filled with the perfect blend of a balanced, healthy meal and homemade goodies. Every single time I do this, it backfires and I am wondering if I am ever going to learn? By placing such grave importance on these waning hours of summer, I am placing grave importance on every single thing falling into its place which, with kids, is nearly impossible. I set myself up for failure and am feeling that sense of failure right now.
The girls are sitting in their rooms, cursing their mother, I am sure. And I was just in tears, sitting on the kitchen floor with my trusty dusting cloth. Not exactly the picture of end of summer nirvana, I had envisioned. Haircuts were the order of the day but because of what ultimately boil down to minor infractions of not listening to instructions given by their drill sergeant mother, the girls will not be getting their hair cut today.
Every day is a struggle. Every day is a fight. Asking, suggesting, imploring. Requests to pick up their rooms, requests for completion of chores, requests for following of rules. Basic rules like finish your chores, brush your teeth every morning and don't ride your bike in the street. Rules I am certain all households enforce. Why do these rules turn into such power struggles? Is it like this in every other house on my block, in my neighborhood, in the city? Kids will be kids, I am told. How am I to differentiate between kids being kids and kids being defiant? When am I going to be better able to pick my battles? Who can tell me if I am expecting too much and if I am causing my beautiful girls who I love so very much too much stress and they are going to be doomed to a lifetime of self doubt and an eternal quest for perfection that is simply unattainable?
Why can't I ever just let it go?
Being a mom is hard and it's only going to get harder. How am I going to be ready for that? Somehow I need to find a balance between love and guidance, patience and results, support and responsibility. If I do not find this balance, never will I earn the respect, love and admiration that I so desperately hope for from these three little people whose lives and souls have been entrusted to me and mean the entire world to me. Without having done this all before, it seems the only way to learn is through trial and error. However, it hardly seems fair that my three precious girls should be subjected to the role of guinea pigs.
The best I can do is all I can do. I realize that a half an hour in their rooms listening to Justin Bieber CDs is hardly a punishment of torture caliber. Not to mention, children are resilient and forgiving. When they are sprung from their luxury jail cells, ears ringing from listening to "Baby" on repeat, they will return my hugs with no lasting feelings of resentment. They will not spend the day beating themselves up for not just putting the hairbrush away and picking up the popcorn off of the floor. They will forgive me and they will forgive themselves.
Another lesson I should learn from them.
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