Sometimes I step back and feel what it feels like when I when I’m with my girls. Because even if I get the practical things right, it won’t be right unless it feels right.
Sometimes I feel happy, I adjust to the unexpected easily and everyday things make me laugh.
Sometimes I feel frustrated, I’m quick-tempered and everyday things seem very hard.
So, while being aware of all this, I noticed something that I say sometimes that I really don’t like.
Sometimes I say “WHAT!?” to my girls.
Sometimes I say “what?”, the regular “what?” when I didn’t hear something or I need more information.
Sometimes I way “WHAT!?” when I mean “I’m really annoyed right now because of you so get it together and tell me what I need to know!”
Part of me thinks my frustration is justified and I will get my answer more quickly if I use a stern voice.
Part of me thinks this isn’t a kind way to talk to people.
I imagine my girls when they are older and I want them to be able to find kind words and a steady voice when they are frustrated.
I imagine that the best way for them to learn that is for me to show them.
I imagine if I try really hard to show them how I want them to handle being frustrated, I might actually learn how to handle being frustrated.
I feel like that would feel better. That is WHAT!?, I mean what I’m going to try to do.
I was in New York on a downtown balcony at a networking event, talking to Clara, who is also a Mom and a writer. It was a beautiful night. Blue Eyes and I were on our first trip without our young girls, the people were interesting and there was an open bar. It was all good, but now and then I looked over my shoulder, looking for my kids to be sure they were all right. I told Clara this, that I was having a great time, but I couldn’t stop looking over my shoulder.
“It’s the balcony,” she said.
She was so right.
Somewhere in the animal part of my brain, I’m wired to protect my kids and if they were here, the balcony eight floors up would make me nervous and I would make sure they weren’t playing too close. My looking over my shoulder was always in the direction of the balcony.
I networked with writers and publishers with good stories and ideas, but the networking with Moms was the best.
The top of the mattress on Sparkles’s toddler bed is 13 inches from the floor. The bed is against a wall on one side and has a rail on the other. Her running across the yard, jumping off rocks, walking along anything off the ground that looks like a balance beam and doing aerial stunts with her Dad, all of that seems more dangerous than sleeping in her bed at night, but it took one second for her to fall out of bed last night and break her collarbone… Read More