It wasn’t the best way to start the day.
Last week there was no school or work due to the Muslim Eid Holiday. The weather finally cooled somewhat so we found ourselves kicking back, chilling out and enjoying some down time. So today was the first morning in getting back to a routine. Or so we thought.
At 5:30am dear daughter turned up in the living room showing symptoms of an ongoing physical problem we’ve been trying to get to the bottom of, for some time now. Dear husband started to make arrangements to take the day off work. Oldest son had a stomach bug he was staying home from school. 30 minutes later, we set off to drive other son to school and then head on to the clinic.
At our regular clinic we saw the doctor, had another follow-up test and a subsequent referral to specialists at another hospital. We headed across the city again to spend a couple of hours having more tests done and finally dropped DD off to school about 11am.
Later in the day after school, lunch and calm had settled back in, I went up to DD’s room to see how she was doing. Well, I got sidetracked as I entered her pigsty of a room and instead of offering kindness and empathy, proceeded by making demands to clean up her room – today! Having seen a smart-assed remark from her posted on FB that she wasn’t so keen on doing any homework, I mentioned that it also needed to be attended to.
She was not impressed. That icy stare she’s quite able to produce cut straight through me as I turned to leave her room.
Later, we ate dinner. Did all the usual stuff. I noticed she wasn’t so keen on talking with me or even making eye contact.
Up to her room again later I apologised for giving her a hard time, today of all days, as she hadn’t had an easy one with all the medical stuff going on. I explained that it wasn’t only her aggravating me, but also her brothers paying such little attention to their school work. I was feeling like I needed to get after everyone to be sure it got done and was growing tired of being the nagging mother. She still didn’t seem very impressed with me. Or accepting of my apology.
Bedtime rolled around. Up to her room again. I looked at her,
I hate being mad at you.
I hate being mad at you.
We finally looked at each other with some real understanding, some honest acknowledgement. We both smiled and gave each other the usual big bed-time hug. Only it felt much better tonight.
Later as I thought about it, it occurred to me that it made absolutely no difference whatsoever the reasons we were upset with one another. What mattered was knowing neither of us wanted anger, disconnection, or negativity between us.
Realizing that. Finding that love, was a great way to end the day.