We had a rough morning here. Mom overslept, ergo, everyone overslept. There was, once again, rushing and yelling and sussing kids out the door without kisses and I was (once again) left standing amid the echoing silent debris after little bodies leave, feeling like a first-class loser-mom.
Thinking of Kathryn Daring’s essay on Drops of Awesome, I decided to rewrite the narrative of the day. I ran upstairs, got myself put together (and for a fraction of a second channeled my inner Molly-Ringwald as I puckered up for some pink lipgloss) and grabbed my keys as I headed out the door.
I pulled Abby out of school for the day. We needed to spend some mama-daughter time, without homework, time-pressure, brothers, distraction, chores, deadlines or dishes. We just needed to be together, to talk, to hold hands as we walked, and remember how amazing the people we love truly are. She was surprised when she skipped into the office, but was all smiles when I told her what was up.
After stopping to pick up a new blouse and headband (appropriate for a fancy lunch with mama) we went to eat. A nice lunch. At a restaurant with multiple forks, white cotton napkins and tall ceilings. We spent the entire lunch talking- some conversations can only happen when you make room for them to unfold, when you stop, breathe, listen and really look at the person you’re interacting with as a human being, not just an obstacle to a time crunch, or a report card, or a goal. Even— no, maybe especially— when that person is your child.
I’m grateful my daughter will open up and share her marvelous insights with me. Yeah, she’s only six, but you’d be amazed at how astute a six-year old can be, when you stop and listen. She had a lot to say.
So like Kathryn, I found some drops of awesome. I called myself on the crummy start to the day, and made a course correction. No matter what she missed in school today, I missed my daughter more, and fixing that trumped everything.