I once heard someone say that when we have babies, as parents we are babies ourselves. As they grow, we grow as parents. I believe that statement to be true and I also believe that as much as we teach our children, we learn just as much from them. With that said...
Yesterday I took Ella to Bed, Bath and Beyond. We were on the hunt for a double-hanging rod. This was exciting for her and selfish for me. Adding a lower bar in the armoire enables her to hang up her princess dresses ALL BY HERSELF, thus giving her some (more) independence and responsibility and me the sanity to not have to pick up and hang up dress-up clothes all day. When we got home I assembled the bar and she began bringing in the dresses one by one and hanging them without assistance. By about the third dress she came in the room and said, "Mommy, I was just talking to God." To which I replied, "You were? Well, what did you tell him?" She continued, "I told him that I LOOOVE my princess dresses and I love to dress-up. I also told him that I'm SOOO excited to be able to hang them up all by myself."
"Ella," I said, "I bet He really enjoyed listening to you tell Him that and I bet it made Him SOOO happy that that makes you happy."
As you can imagine, at this point, I'm feeling pretty good about myself and my parenting abilities-successful even. I mean, my three-year-old is having active and purposeful conversation with her heavenly father, thus building a personal relationship with Him that I pray every night that she'll have. I'd like to end this post here. I'd like to stop with you thinking that I'm the best parent ever and my child is never anything other than sweet and perfect...but, that would be a lie. The joy that had filled my heart in this moment left a very few, quick seconds later.
She was continuing to hang her dresses. The Snow White jacket fell off the hanger as she was getting it onto the bar and she began to pitch a fit. I immediately (and calmly) assured her a melt down was not necessary and to hand it to me and let me help her. Surprisingly, she obliged. But, again, as life would have it, off came the jacket during her second attempt at hanging it.
This time, a MELT DOWN I could NOT stop!
I picked Cale up off the bed (where he was chewing on a shoe...second child, I know) and began walking into the other room. She followed me, yelling at me to come back and pick up her dresses. I turned around, told her to go to her room, not to touch another dress and just sit there until she had calmed down.
"You may not talk to your mother that way, God wants us to be sweet to our parents," I informed. She stomped into her room and uttered those words that as a parent you can only hope to never hear...especially from your three-year-old, "I don't like you! I used to, but I don't anymore!"
OUCH! I wanted to cry...I even sat there for a minute and tried. There were reasons I couldn't.
1. I was shocked, enough said.
2. I understood her anger and frustration. I all to well know the passion that comes with anger and I could relate that in the heat of the moment her overwhelming feelings came out in hurtful words. And,
3. I HOPED she didn't really mean it.
And, at this point I don't know what or who I was most upset with. Our passion, stubborness and tempers are freakishly similar. I can't really be upset with her for something that she clearly got from me. After all, she's allowed to have an opinion, but she must also learn to be respectful. Not speaking in anger is NOT my strong point. When my emotions are high so is my tone and I don't tend to hold back. Patience is NOT my virtue, apparently it isn't hers either. Now, I've never told her that I didn't like her, but children learn what they see and at this moment I was humbled in a way I never have been. It's upsetting, it's frustrating to see the things that you like the least about yourself show up in your children. It's unsettling to know that the things you don't want them to see about you are probably the things that stick out the most to them and it's painful to think that as much as we teach and show them good, we inevitably teach them the bad and the ugly. I think more than the hurt I felt at the thought that she "didn't like me" I was mostly ashamed that she new how to verbalize it.
Later that day, after Cale was asleep, we had a "come to Jesus." I was calm and collected, she was attentive and honest. And, past the anger, I could tell that she had genuine remorse and she knew exactly what she was sorry for. It was the most "adult" conversation she and I have had (and we've had a few) up until this point. And, though I felt I had failed as a parent when I heard that statement, the Lord gave me back my confidence when He showed me that past her anger I was still shepherding her heart.
And closer up...
He has risen INDEED!! Happy Easter!
