Do you know what I say a lot? In a minute. Or other versions of that same thought, like the next time I get up, when I come in there, after I finish this chapter, when your daddy gets home, this weekend, next week, later.”
I don’t think I realized how frequently I said those words to my children. I just know that my girls don’t ever need anything from me unless I’ve just sat down, just pulled the covers up, just closed my eyes, read one sentence of a book or taken the first bite of a hot meal. I was laying in bed one night last week, reading a book while Josh surfed the internet. Ella was reading in her room and Sophie was playing in the playroom. It was pretty early in the evening for me to be relaxing, but the dinner dishes were put away, baths and homework were checked off the list and everyone seemed happy with what they were doing. I had just turned the metaphorical page on my Kindle when Sophie trotted in and asked if I would get something down off a high shelf. I’m guessing I didn’t even look up and my response was most definitely “the next time I get up.” Let’s be honest here. The next time I planned to get up was at bed time, to help them put away toys and get into bed. I had no real intention of getting down whatever it was she was asking for and if Josh hadn’t pointed it out, I might have forgotten we ever even had that conversation. She ambled out of the room and Josh spinned around to face me. He suggested that I not say that so much. I could have been a little self-righteous. He wasn’t doing anything that prevented him from navigating the tall shelf, but she didn’t ask him and he didn’t brush her off. It wasn’t even that I was reading anything particularly wonderful or life-changing, just a time-suck at the end of a long day. I didn’t get up right away, but the conversation stuck with me.
If you follow me on Instagram, you might have seen that Josh fixed our gas oven on Saturday morning. It has been a bit temperamental for some time, but it finally said farewell on Thanksgiving day. The broiler worked fine and the stove top had no issues, but the oven refused to light. Before I even got up that morning, he had the thing pulled away from the cabinets and completely taken apart. Sophie came into our room and mentioned breakfast and when I asked her what her daddy was doing she told me he was fixing the oven! After $70 and a quick trip to town, it lit right up and everybody in our house did a little jig.
The VERY first thing Sophie asked after we got everything put back together was if we could make cupcakes. Y’all, this question slayed me and took me right back to that conversation with Josh. You see, she got a silicone baking kit for her birthday. In April. And since April, she’s been asking to make cupcakes. Neither of my girls eat icing and Josh doesn’t eat cake. I rarely eat desserts, so I just didn’t see the point. But she kept asking and I kept deflecting.
When I went to the grocery store on Sunday afternoon, I bought what could be considered the healthiest grocery selection I’ve ever purchased. The only wheat product I bought was chex mix for the girls’ lunch boxes. Everything else was fresh meat, fruit or veggies. Everything except the baking supplies. I got a box of funfetti cupcake mix, a container of whipped cream cheese icing and chocolate sprinkles. My girl was happy.
Monday was a crazy day filled with all kinds of projects. We finally packed away the remainder of our holiday decor {except for those pink “Valentine” trees}, we cleaned out closets and folded laundry, we vacuumed and dusted and rearranged furniture. And finally, at 8 o’clock on a school night, we baked cupcakes. My girls each ate an un-iced one before bed and we packed up 12 pretty cupcakes for Taz to share with her friends at school the next day.
I do not want to be the deflector. I don’t want to brush my children off and fill my time with things that don’t matter. I do NOT want my children to tell me one day, that I ignored them or that they felt neglected. I don’t think I’ve done anything that any other tired and frustrated mother doesn’t do sometimes, but I desperately needed a reality check. I’m not perfect and I’m sure there will be days when I want to lock them in the play room with a movie and enjoy a little solitude. I’m also pretty sure I’ll do a lot better at meeting their needs {and wants} on their time-table instead of mine.Needless to say, we all slept a little better that night.
Can we discuss that she has a framed photograph of a cat on her bedside table? A cat that resembles Killer, but that was actually cut out of a magazine at Gran’s house one afternoon! Or what about that her Minnie Mouse headphones weren’t even connected to anything? And, of course, I removed them before I went to bed. Even I’m smart enough not to strangle my children in the middle of the night.
