Go Away Please
“I hate doing this and you keep making me do things I don’t want to! You’re the worst mother ever!” She exerted. My six year old and I yelled at each other over having to pick up in the playroom after a mess she had made independent of her sister. “It’s your responsibility, and if you don’t do it I will keep telling you to!” I yelled back and she yelled back and she yelled some more and I yelled some more. This had escalated faster and larger than I had intended over a mess in the playroom, I was not proud of this fact, regretful even. So I removed myself to the kitchen to make lunch and left her to sort out her responsibilities to which I heard a door slam and realized my yelling was futile. She, like me, removed herself from the situation too. I took time to make lunch while seething from the exchange, why do we end up in these scuffles, I was at my wits end but took this opportunity to cool off and regroup. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t pick up that got me, it was the audacity for her to say hurtful things to me. Things rationally I knew were just to push my buttons and that she didn’t truly mean but it hurt nonetheless. I decided to talk it through over our meal as lunch was ready and her sister seated with her food. I called out and got no answer from my oldest so I started up the stairs only to find a sign duct taped to the door that said: ‘Go Away Please’.
My heart stopped, I wanted to breach it and go into the room, but she was asserting herself and communicating her boundaries, so I paused. I knocked gently, “Hey baby, can we talk?” I heard thumping towards the door, “No, I’m not ready. I need time to breathe. The sign on the door is for you.” I pulled my face from the door, “ Okay, mommy is here when you’re ready, I love you.” I left her room feeling a weird feeling of sadness I had caused her big emotions by not controlling mine but I was proud of her assertion of needs.
In the past we had talked about boundaries and handling feelings and frustrations, she understands she is allowed to feel those things but not be unduly hurtful. It was harder every time she came up with something against me, but I reminded myself she was growing into her own person and dealing with her big feelings.
The ‘Go Away Please’ sign though. It made me sink deeper into the realization that she was growing into her person much faster than I had anticipated. I thought I had at least five more years before her sense of independence severed her tether to me. Perhaps I still have that but her blossoming is evidently outpacing my mothering.
I’ve always prided myself in instilling a sense of independence and confidence and emotional intelligence in my children. Setting boundaries was one I felt gravely important in their lives given the lessons I had learned in my own life born in trauma. Still, one that I sometimes struggle to respect. Still I tried. My mind immediately went to my little girl who used to tug on my skirt to look at her stacked Tupperware, the little girl with her fingers wrapped around mine while she walked to the playground streaming confidence from me to play with the other children, the little girl that needed me for everything she did. This was also a girl I had raised so strong that she walked off into her school not looking back on the first day of kindergarten, the five year old girl that stood in front of two hundred people delivering a speech with so much grace and authority, a girl that now had the strength to tell me what she needed: ‘Go Away Please’.
My anger, frustrations and hurt from her words melted away as my feelings were minuscule compared to this expression of self she was exhibiting. Pride took over. When she finally calmed down she peeked out of her bedroom, eyes teary and face worn,”Mommy, I’m sorry for hurting your feelings but I need to talk with you.” That was my in and I knew what I had to do at that point surpassed the yelling I had remorsefully submitted to, this was my chance to reinforce what I needed to. Her sense of independence and ability to process her emotions. We hugged and cried first, allowing all the pain between us to drip and soak up the bean bag. Then we talked and talked and both processed our feelings of what had just occurred. She was regretful for being defiant and accepted her responsibility over her belongings, I was regretful for being ugly and raising my voice in frustration. She was regretful for saying I was the worst mother and I was regretful for escalating the situation that made her feel she needed to say that. I congratulated her for being able to process her feelings and communicate them to me and for being able to regulate her emotions enough to be able to have this conversation. We made up with more hugs and kisses and she proceeded to clean up her mess.
The more she grows into her person, the more fearful I am about having to teach her all the lessons. Will I be able to teach her ALL the lessons?What if I run out of time? What if she learns them without me? What if that isn’t the plan after all?
Perhaps we go through mothering doing the best we can, as all sage wisdom points to. Perhaps they grow as they grow, not too fast, not too slow, not even on time. Perhaps it is just what it is but I feel like I’m being left in the mud and I want to keep up, hold her hand through things more, more than what is allotted to me. I want more of my children and I also want the ‘Go Away Please’ signs, a conundrum I suppose will be till the end of time.