Careless

  
The hard parenting days have been accumulating like dust. One after the other until I feel like I’m in a haze. Until I feel like I am muddling through instead of being intentional.

It was a long day. I know it was. We drove to Lincoln and back, we went to the zoo, we picked up our new minivan and dropped off our old car. Things that you forget are a lot for a four year old. 

We got home and were rushing about getting ready to go on to the next step of the day. She was playing with her sister and making her laugh. I reminded her probably three times, each time I passed through the room on the way to the next thing, to “be careful” “be gentle” “be kind” with her baby sister. The next time I walked into the room, I found her trying to pick up baby sister with one hand.

I lost it. 

The day, all the days before, it all came to a head and I lost it. I hauled her to her room and yelled. I yelled that I couldn’t believe she would do that. What was she thinking. Had she not heard me a hundred times telling her to be careful. She knew better. How could she. 

I told her I was so mad I couldn’t think straight. And that she was not to come out of her room. I paced. I fumed. Every time I closed my eyes or tried to regain my composure, I saw her being careless with our sweet baby and I lost it all over again. I went back in and yelled more. When she didn’t respond the way I wanted, I stormed out again. Then back in to yell more. Then out again. And every time I went back in it got worse. 

And then I burst into tears. Because I feel helpless. I googled “what to do when sibling doesn’t seem to care they are hurting baby” and nothing helped. I called and texted my go-to friend until she answered.

And thank God she answered. 

She listened to my tears. She encouraged me. She reminded me this is normal. She reminded me that my child was just that… A child. She was my cheerleader. Thank God she answered. 

And so I wept and wept and then I took a breath. I went back inside and I fed my child and bathed her. And sat her down on her bed and I said,

“Today has been hard. This evening was hard. I know you’re feeling a lot and so we will talk more about this tomorrow. But I would like it a lot if you could listen to me. Really listen with all your heart. And hear just a few things. And let them be in your brain and your heart while you sleep tonight. And we will talk more tomorrow. 

The first thing I would like you to hear is that I love you. I love you with all my heart and soul and strength. You are my world and I am your mama and I will do everything I can to take care of you and keep you safe in this big world. And I will always love you. Always. 

She gets uncomfortable in serious talks, bless her heart, so she wanted to talk about mama fighting bad guys with swords. And I said yes, I would do whatever it takes, and we could talk more about that tomorrow, but right now I just needed her to hear my love. 

And then I told her the second thing I needed her to hear: that she was good. She was good good good. Amazing and smart and beautiful. That even on the days where it felt like she was in trouble all day, even on the days where she did bad things, that no part of her was bad. I could see how beautiful and sweet and kind her heart was and I was so proud to be her mama. 

And third, I could see how hard today was for her. I could see that she missed dad, that changing cars was a big deal, and that it was a long and tiring day. And I knew that sometimes on hard days we feel overwhelmed and we don’t know what to do. And that now, on bad days, she has to share mama with sister and that feels hard. I told her I was trying. That being a mama was like learning how to swim. It took a long time and a lot of practice and you just had to keep getting better slowly and that I was always trying to get better. And that sister was still new, and that it wouldn’t feel this hard forever. 

And then I told her the fourth and final thing, and that it was important. That I thanked God every night for making me her mama. Because that meant God trusted me to help her find the good and pure and beautiful and special things that were in her heart that weren’t in anyone else’s heart. That she was amazing because there wasn’t another heart like hers in the whole world. And that I was so lucky to get to learn about her special heart. 

And that baby sister, even though she just seems like a baby, that she had a special heart too. A heart different from anyone else’s heart. And that God thought we were the perfect family to help unwrap this beautiful gift of a heart. And because there was no other heart on earth like hers or baby sister’s, that we had to be careful and take care of each other and those special hearts. 

And I cried and told her I was sorry that I had been so frustrated with her and so impatient. I told her that even though I got mad at her for her big energy, that I knew she would use that energy to change the world and make it a better place. And she looked and me and said,

“Mama, I already have changed the world.”

And so I bawled and I drank wine. And I said out loud to my husband, but mostly to myself, that I was ashamed of how I had treated her today. Because she was a child. Yes, she was smart and maybe she knew better. But she is still a child, with big feelings that she doesn’t know what to do with yet and big thoughts that she doesn’t understand yet and that she isn’t bad. She isn’t bad. She isn’t the bad guy here, and I’ve treated her like one. I coo and awe over her baby sister and then I yell at her to slow down, be better, stop. And she just needed her mama to slow down and see her. 

I have yelled and yelled at her to stop being careless with her baby sister. But I have been careless with her. I can see it in her sweet little eyes when she looks at me. She is learning who she is, but until she had the skills to figure it out for herself, she will believe whatever I believe about her. Whatever story it is I tell about her, she will believe. And she will tell that same story about herself. 

And for the past few weeks, my tone of voice, my lack of patience, my anger and frustration, have told her that she is bad and wrong. That she is too much. 

Realizing this breaks my heart. 

And makes me feel relieved, that I realized it now. That I can wake up tomorrow and do my best to start fresh. With a different story. A better story. I can teach her what she needs to learn, about self awareness and self control, without making her believe that she is bad or broken. 

Because she isn’t. She is perfect. And I am so unbelievably blessed to be her mama. I hope someday she knows how much she has taught me. About being careless or care-full. About love and hard days. About how easy it really is to change someone’s world. 

Because you have, baby girl. You’ve changed my world for the better. More than you’ll ever know.