Avalanche

She is so much more than a little 12 year old. But sometimes I reduce her to nothing

Tonight I approached Brynley to lay down the law that she needed to practice her piano before she went to play with her friends. She hasn't gotten her practice time in since basically the beginning of school. Somehow this very organized young lady has started getting up earlier each morning and accomplishing less before she heads off (more time deciding which plain colored t-shirt to put with which pair of tan or navy pants that the dress code allows...).

My words began as a little trickle. Just letting her know that we expect her to do what she needs to do before she does what she wants to do (she was in that moment weaving a new back pack out of ribbon). But the words had a life of their own. Suddenly they were tumbling out of my mouth, and I couldn't pull them back in to me. She was hearing how she has a pretty easy life, and that not that much is expected of her...

but that really isn't true. The first part is true, but we really expect a lot.

And here is the thing; I feel guilty that I expect a lot. Sometimes I feel I am neglectful or abusive because I expect my kids to make their own lunches and beds. Because I expect them to pick up the belongings we have provided for them (ie. clothes, shoes, dance wear, bicycles, books and books and books. Oh, and ribbon woven back packs).

"Other kids at school say; 'my mom forgot to put homemade cookies in my lunch today'. and I think to myself 'my mom doesn't make our lunches. And I made the last batch of cookies'. "

'Ouch Ouch Ouch!' says I.

What am I doing all day, and not making cookies for my kids or packing their lunches with a twinkle in my eye and love in every bite?

I'm teaching them how to do it for themselves. And let me tell you; it takes longer to teach than to just do it for them...

But I still feel guilty about that. And Bryn (and her other siblings) feel that I am the wicked step mother instead of the fairy god mother.

and I'd rather be the sweet happy fairy than the stern ugly mean one with holds all of lifes' goodness and can't have a song on her lips as she whistles while she makes her little children work.

But I digress, back to the words that came tumbling out of my mouth.

as these uninvited words are spilling out over my child she begins to cry, to weep. Somewhat in self pity and mostly in PAIN. My words are inflicting pain. They are not bringing appreciation and respect. They are not bearing testimony of the goodness of motherhood. They are only being hurtful and now they are said

like an avalanche that started with just a tiny snowball and now entire mountainsides are destroyed for all the damage that's been done.

I tried to patch things up. to find her breathing somewhere in the aftermath; buried by the frigid heart that spewed unappreciative phrases at the child who is becoming a woman. That child who used to hang on my every word for her very happiness. And that child who is now buried in the ugliness of the avalanche of words that just started with "please play your piano..."

Sometimes i don't deserve this job. and all I can do is pick up the shovel and try to clear away all the damage.