Yesterday, my son, daughter, and I were sledding in our backyard. When my daughter was done, she went to head inside, and me, ever the Lesson Teacher, asked/told her to bring a sled with her. Now, I could have told her to trudge all the way back up the hill and grab one that not one of us was using. I could have had her grab two. But, I just wanted her to learn to help with clean up when she was done, and only asked for one.
Now, I'm not sure when the Hollywood sign and set was constructed at my house, and why I haven't seen it yet, but I do know that my daughter is out to win some kind of Kid Oscar for drama. Begin scene with the eye roll, arms thrown up in the air, and the "Why do I always have to do it. Why can't Josh do it? Why can't YOU do it? I'm busy, I'm cold, I'm tired, I don’t want to bring in a sled!"
Begrudgingly, she grabbed a sled and stomped inside.
I then added, "Don't forget to bring all your wet clothes up for me to put them in the dryer, honey!", with the sweetness of Sarcastic Mommy, which was promptly met with a "Ugh, Mom, you ask me to do EVERYTHING!"
I let her have her moment, even though it bothered me to do so.
When I was a kid, I didn't get to talk back, I didn't lecture my parents. (at least, not from what I remember.) I used to hike two miles to school UP HILL, BOTH WAYS, in the snow, people!!!
Fast forward ten minutes later, after just having loaded all of her wet clothes into the dryer, and starting to prep dinner, when my Boo asked me to play on the computer. Now, I could've just let the last little rant go, and told her yes, but for some reason, I grasp every single solitary chance I get to lecture my kids and teach them lessons. (It's a problem, I know… one of my many daily mantras is 'say it in 3 sentences or less today, Heather'.)
So, now it's MY turn with the Hollywood sign and set. I raise my voice and I'm ranting and raving about all the things I do in our house on a daily basis, how much I get done, how I never ever have time to just sit and, yadda yadda, yadda, …No need to bore you with the details here, you get the picture.
Usually, about halfway through my lecture, I mess up words or say something wrong, and because I have OCD, I feel the need to re-phrase everything I just said to my kids, again. Yes, folks, I've been blessed with the beat-a-dead-horse-trait; my kids love it. (not)
Only, THIS time, I didn't. I phrased everything perfectly, ending with a grand sweep of the arm towards the couch, indicating where I'd like to be, and showing where I actually was, the kitchen (but man I love my kitchen!).
I look at my daughter, sure as all get out that all of this will sink in and she'll realize what no one does until they're in the thick of it themselves; what it takes to be an adult and a parent. I'm patting myself on the back, proud of myself for the second time within a week that I'm just awesome (oh, how yogic of me!), when my Boo, without skipping a beat, asks, "So, is that a yes or a no?"
If I was a cartoon, the camera would've panned to me, with the screwed up, "Huh?" expression on my face every cartoon gets when they're confused. As my Oscar moment scene ended and faded into the night, I erupted in a fit of giggles, complete with falling right onto the floor of my kitchen. Which my daughter reluctantly joined in on, not knowing what, exactly we were laughing at, accusing me through hard-to-contain straight faced 'I know you're just trying to make me laugh, but I'm not ready to yet, Momma!"
The mind of an 8 year old. I love it. I yearn for when life was simple and my biggest decision was the moment I was in and nothing else. Which is what I'm constantly reminded of through yoga, and through my twins, yet is also so easy to forget when I'm not on my mat or surrounded by my kids. But what an awesome reminder both serve to me … stay present, Momma, because THAT is where the magic is.
And yes, she got to play on the computer.