Today was a typical Sunday for me and the kids: Cleaning day. Finally feeling better, I designated this as “Blast the Flu Outta Here” day. This meant I was well equipped and prepared to Lysol and bleach any hard surface in the house. This is also known, on any given Sunday, as laundry day.
Sticking to ritual and routine, I announced the purpose of the day to both of my little sweeties, and mentioned the consequences of giving me a hard time about doing their chores. The first offense was a week of grounding off the television, which I knew would hit hard. The payment for the second offense of complaining or back-talk would be that they lose their classroom Halloween party on Friday. Yes, parents have the right to use these things at their whim! To my char grin, both kids agreed to the stakes and promised to do a great job for me.
Of course, this wasn’t the case. When asked to do the very first task, Ryan began crying and complaining, and even said he wasn’t prepared for this to be cleaning day. What?! Last I knew, I only had one son, and he was the one who agreed to the activities of the day. Huh. Well, I pulled the first consequence, informing Ryan that he was now grounded off the t.v. for a week. This led to more tears and drama, which led to him losing his Halloween party. Feeling drained from the hysteria, I gave him one chance to earn back his party by taking his clean clothes to his room and putting them away. He gave me some tears but did it anyway. Victory!
Or so I thought. When going through his homework folder as I prepared for the beginning of the school week, I found a spelling paper that needed to be done. I handed it to Ryan and told him to get it done. He said no. Simply, “No.” Excuse me?! When did a parent’s directive become optional? Ryan threw the paper on the floor and yelled, “You always yell! I feel like you don’t love me! You say cruel things to me!” What?? Me?? I didn’t see that coming. Ryan called me out, and when he did, he looked the most grown-up I’ve ever seen him. He was also, the most articulate I’ve ever heard him. Wow, this we needed to discuss, no matter how uncomfortable.
I was hurt and proud all in a split second and needed a minute to recover. I took a deep breath and began to talk to my sweet boy in a loving and patient tone. He almost made eye contact and that is a big deal. I told him how much I love him and how I would never intentionally hurt him. I asked him what cruel thing I said that is hurting his heart. “You told me you wanted to knock my head off, and that was horrible mom!” And the knife slid deeper into my wounded heart. I did say those words. On more than one occasion. I was beyond frustrated. I apologized to Ryan as he looked across the room. I asked for forgiveness. “I forgive you mommy. I love you.” I swallowed my tears. I didn’t have the right to cry or feel hurt after the way I hurt my child. I had to suck it up, just like he had to when I shouted those words in anger and exasperation.
We had a nice talk after the initial issue was left to hang. I explained that we have to work as a team, and be extra kind and respectful of each other. I also let Ryan know that my frustration, although seemingly directed at him, is mostly from other things. I made sure that he knew that as the adult, it was my responsibility to stay in control of my words and actions and that I would try to do a better job. He said, “You’re a good mom.” Probably not, but I am so trying!
Ryan, reaching his max for this emotional situation, lay down and put his head in my lap. He wrapped his arms around my waist and took a deep sigh. I could feel him relax against me. I felt loved and forgiven. I also remembered with harsh clarity that I am his protector and anchor. How ironic that I am also the one that has the power to wound him so deeply.
