Deal w/the Sassies

The other day I had a timely “teaching moment” with my girls. After being up all night—literally—with my toddler who fought an ear infection, I attempted to catch some final zzzs between 4:30 a.m. and 6:45 a.m., the latter time when my junior high kids readied for school.
However, I was awakened by the sounds of a stressed out teen and immediately, I knew why—hair. I had promised to help her with The Curls. She did not know of my sleeplessness night, nor that my clock had been apparently reset incorrectly, and let me know that helping me with her hair was not happening in a timely fashion. After some “loving communication,” however, she apologized and we got her out the door.
Enter Phase II, which was the younger girls awakening with great joy and buttercups—not—and complaints of THEIR hair not being done in a timely or desired fashion. Right at the moment that one daughter stared at her locks and said sassily, “And these are soft curls?” I smiled and said, “Mom’s done.” Actually, I didn’t smile just yet. First, I put down the curling iron and said something about “Are you serious?” or some such parenting book pearl of wisdom. This was followed by my own epithet of “If you can’t appreciate Mom’s help, you can appreciate getting ready for school, breakfast, prayer and scripture without it.”
Then, I smiled.
As I walked back to the bedroom to cuddle my now awake toddler, I could hear the sounds of childlike understanding: squabbling, sobbing, and ultimately submissive silence. A few minutes before I knew they needed to leave, I met them at the door. To my great joy, they were fully clothed—in a coordinated fashion—had eaten breakfast, and were folding their arms to pray. When I approached them with yet another smile (this one genuine) they both hugged me and expressed appreciation for what I do (though I doubt they knew exactly what that was). I shared my love and appreciation for them back (and I’m sure somewhere a soundtrack was playing) and expressed how much it means to me when they see Mom as a person with thoughts, feelings, and need for sleep, as well as a happy helper.
One of the hard parts of being a Mom is knowing when to draw the line and when to cross over it with a hug. And although this experience turned out a la Brady Bunch, others haven’t. But what mattered most to me in this experience was that when respect was lacking, I set a healthy boundary to regain it. As mothers, there are times we need to make that clear. To help our children see us as a person even though they may only see Mom.
And a Mom that smiles.
Best,
Connie
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