Yesterday I blogged about my terrible morning and how I sent my youngest son off to school crying. It was helpful to receive some feedback that I am not alone. It was also helpful when later that morning I made a trip to the beauty salon.
I find the beauty salon to be therapeutic. Of course, it helps that my hair stylist happens to be my friend and I have been going to her for nearly 17 years now. As soon as I walked in the door she knew something was wrong.
I spilled it all out and guess what? She didn’t judge me. In fact she seemed almost relieved that I shared because then she began to tell me about a recent experience she had with her 16 year-old-daughter. Suddenly we both felt better, not in the sense that what we did was right but just in knowing you are not alone.
There is something about knowing that you are not alone that is redeeming. I don’t know if you can relate but I tend to exaggerate the “damage” I think I have caused my children when I mess up. I wonder if they will hate me, if they will bring it up when they are older or if one day they still be sitting in a therapist’s office spilling out all the wrong things I have done.
I think the reason I do this to myself is because my childhood was so dysfunctional and chaotic that I try hard to make sure my children have the opposite experience. Sometimes it’s to their detriment however, because then I tend to relax on the discipline.
Finding the balance for any parent is hard enough but I think it becomes even more challenging when you have the experience of a difficult background. You strive so hard to not repeat the mistakes and so if I even see a glimpse of a reminder from my past then I feel like I have wrecked my children forever.
I know I’m a good mom. But I’m not a perfect mom and sometimes I mess up. But oh how refreshing it is to know that I am not alone in that. I think us moms need to reassure each other more often.
In the end I picked my son up from school and he jumped into the van with a smile on his face. While I was expecting him to bring up our morning he instead began to tell me about some test scores he received back. He was so excited about the grades and it seemed as if he had completely forgotten the earlier incident.
As we drove we reached over to me and touched my arm. I knew instantly that was his way of saying everything was okay. I told him I was sorry and he said that it was fine and guess what? We went about our day like it had never happened. Kids are so forgiving; perhaps we should be a little more forgiving of ourselves.
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