rush delivery
December 22, 2016 § 3 Comments
Fifteen minutes before the mad dash for the bus, on the last day of school before vacation, my daughter unraveled over a missing sweater. The calendar called for an ugly adornment to culminate a week of playful spirit wear.
We had nothing beyond my confusion and my daughter’s quiet crocodile tears. Disappointment and confusion sat heavy among frustration and false cheer.
Communication unraveled into staccato questions? A triage of information to properly assess the severity of the preteen meltdown.
Is this important? Will you have regrets? What do we have at our disposal and is this solution an acceptable compromise?
Like Cinderella’s mice, we scavenged our surroundings for resources. The sweater off my back, a garland of red ribbon, and a bow from Christmas past.
We solved the physical problem but between sloppy, hurried stitches we learned a few important self truths, too.
My daughter learned to speak up when something is important to her. Those trips to stores searching for a bargain ugly sweater were all met with a postured acceptance of frugality.
She learned to prioritize her needs rather than crumpling into honesty out of disappointment.
Lastly, she learned to problem solve with what she had is a far greater comfort than crying over what she cannot change.
I learned a few lessons, too. Anger was an unfortunate response to frustration. I let my insecurities about short changing my daughter’s experience predict failure and that bitterness tainted the miracle of my feverish stitch work.
I criticized my daughter for not speaking up sooner, being honest, and getting emotional. I can’t imagine why she might have hesitated to speak up at all.
Rather than high-fiving and hugging over our last minute miracle of sheer stubborn determination, we were quietly pulling ourselves together from the stomach churning exhaustion of our fears and insecurities.
What will the other kids say? Am I a bad mother?
Will she be disappointed in me?
I succeeded in crafting the much needed sweater, but I missed a stitch mothering. This is the moment, the scrap of knotty ends I don’t want to unravel into forgetfulness:
I confessed to my daughter that I had wanted to provide perfectly and I thought I needed more time, more resources when what we had between us was enough. A fragment of string, an old sweater, and a partially crumpled bow all held together with effort and love. Sometimes the things we are most worried about failing at, missing out on, or not having are all just under our nose.
scribblechic 
At least much wisdom was gained between you for these times…and it is a love all its own Marie 😀 ❤
A red thread tied around my finger least I forget too quickly.
Wisdom learned through love, never forgotten Marie. But the thread will be the tying off of a beautiful present 😀