Let the Children
Minutes after 4, I rushed through
the front door. I started dinner, added
fresh water to the dog's bowl and threw laundry into the washer. My three youngest children set out their homework
on our dining room table. I bounced from
food preparation to assignment monitor.
Playing this crazy game of back and
forth got old, as old as I felt that day.
Priscilla, my pre-teen, walked into the kitchen from her after-school
activity. The dog greeted her by
tripping me on one of my returns to the stove.
"Get this dog from under my
feet. She's gonna kill me yet. Her hair's everywhere, and I'm sick of her
smelling up the yard."
The reverberation of my voice
stopped, and the house's stillness shocked me.
Priscilla stared wide-eyed, still wearing her jacket. Seeing her frightened face, I knew she wanted
to say something, but couldn't. Coming
home after her extended day to a ranting mother had stunned her.
Thinking this could scar her for
life, I broke down crying. "I'm
sorry. You just came through the
door. I shouldn't have jumped on you. Who would want to come home to that?"
We hugged, and I refocused. It wasn't just the dog. Working in a preschool classroom all day and
trying to keep things from falling apart at home had frazzled me. I needed to make a change, so I started with
the dog.
Priscilla had come to the age where
being the mommy of a dog had lost its glamour.
Other things had taken her attention from Sprinkles. But the hyper springer spaniel was a part of
our family and giving her away could cause emotional damage to the children
and, I had to admit, me.
My outburst had humbled me enough to
see that troubleshooting this problem wasn't as difficult as I had expected. Back in tune with reality, I noticed our son
had slipped into the role my daughter had as Sprinkles' closest buddy.
Once our family officially
acknowledged my son as doggie's daddy, he took pride in feeding and walking
Sprinkles without reminders. The walks
also helped with both their extra energies.
I worried that Priscilla would be
hurt or jealous of this change in family status. She seemed relieved though, watching
Sprinkles leap with excitement as Forest jiggled her leash. Priscilla's furry friendship had transformed
to pet. Just pet. A hint that she was growing up.
Me too. I admitted to myself that a mature mother
didn't have to function alone with household duties. I can look for growth in myself to accept
help from a capable child. Part of my
job as a parent is to look for progress in my children and tap new abilities as
they develop before my eyes. My hope for
them is to realize how important their efforts are in our shared life.
So when issues arise, and I sense
discord in myself, I see my daughter's fearful face that day in the
kitchen. This reminds me to step back
and explore why I'm feeling so overwhelmed.
Usually it's a need for new rotation of chores, growth that needs more
inclusion, or maybe just fatigue. Even
supermoms who love dogs can accept help from children.
