Sometimes, I wonder if I"m the mom who's fucking up more than the others. Wednesday was one of those days.
I had decided to make a pot roast in my crockpot for dinner. I pumped myself up about it quite a bit. Not to mention, it was kind of expensive. Geez, I don't eat much beef and therefore, didn't know how much money I would be shelling out for a roast! So I started cooking in the morning and went about my day like normal. Except the smell wafting through my house was great and I kept peeking at the roast. Teagan came home and it was getting to be dinner time. I checked the roast while Teagan was outside playing, and lo and behold, something wasn't right with it. I was pissed. I wasted all day, some extra money I had, and didn't have anything to show for it. I said something to my mom and she told me to calm down, which in turn made me more upset and off to my room I went, crying and feeling sorry for myself. A few minutes later, in comes my little girl. She sits down on my bed and starts to rub my back. And she says the wisest, most mom like thing to me. " It's not ruined mama. My teacher always says that nothing is ruined if you try your hardest. You need to at least try it." And my jaw fell to the floor.
In that moment, I wondered, who was the mom in this situation? Me, the 23 year old, emotional, hot mess, or the sweet 6 year old sitting beside me on the bed? Had I messed up that bad, that my daughter knows that I've prone to tantrums when I've messed up? Is this something my child should even be seeing? I tore myself down for a few minutes. And then pretended that all was well. For her sake. I don't feel like she should see me that way. That's how society makes us feel. That we need to hold it together all the time for everybody else around us. We need to take care of everyone else, and not worry about ourselves. I sat and asked myself all these questions, with answers that made me sound like the worst parent in the history of parenthood.
And that's when I realized, I've been doing a pretty good damn job of helping this little girl grow up. She came to make me feel better when she knew I was upset. She came to encourage me, when I didn't think that I could continue on. I realized that I was the one that helped her learn to do this. I've always told her that she shouldn't be afraid to help people and to be nice to them. I've made it a great point in her little life. I taught her that she should act how she would want others to treat her. All these positive traits she was showing to me, was just the kick in the ass I needed to quit wallowing in my not entirely perfect dinner. It was still edible. Just not how I thought it should be.
And as for my daughter, knowing and seeing that I got upset about something trivial, well that's not the worst thing that could happen. Yea, I don't want it to happen a lot, but she needs to know that sometimes a good cry and a back rub from somebody you love, can help you out immensely. It can make you feel a thousand times better than before. I'm showing her that it's ok to feel passionately about something. Whether that something be dinner or the injustice she sees in the world. Just feel passion.
I'd say, I'm doing this right. For now anyway.