I always thought that witnessing my children understand a “big concept” that I’ve been working with them on would be a proud, sweet moment. We preach “kindness” and “inclusion” and “love” and then just kind of wait for our kids to understand the big picture. So, naturally during the 472927 times a day I was reminding my kids about the importance of patience, I was also fantasizing about the day they would actually understand it and practice it. I just knew it would be glorious.
But that theory went to hell in a hand basket this morning.
Backstory: Emerson likes to “do her makeup” with me in the morning and look at herself in my fancy light up mirror. Like with most things the kids do, it was the cutest thing when she first started it…
Except on this particular morning I was running late, per usual, so I was rushing through things. This child (like her father in many ways) just muscles her way in to my personal space and starts joining the fun. Except it’s only fun for her and I’m just frantically pulling tweezers away from her little death grip and securing caps on things before she sends a laser stream of concealer to the moon.
So, I’m trying to do my liquid eyeliner – and literally all the women reading this who use liquid eye liner just gasped because they know that stuff is the devil’s paint and if I mentioned it, things are about to go downhill – but the tiny intruder is all up in my business. I’m one swipe away from my mediocre finished product when Emerson straight up throws an elbow and I draw a thick, jagged line up my eyelid.
At this point, the dogs are barking and the baby’s crying and if that doesn’t sound enough like a country song, I shriek “son of a buttered biscuit, Emerson Belle!” And while I look like I’m preparing for my debut appearance as a guest singer with KISS, little miss all-the-sudden-calm-cool-and-collected just stares at me like I’M the problem here.
And guys, I shit you not, as I’m huffing and puffing and scrubbing the top layer of my eyelid off (truly the devil’s paint) she looks at me, pats my hand and says:
“Patient, Mama.”
“Okay? Be patient.”
“Yeah, you be patient.”
And, to be clear, I really was proud of her for catching me demonstrating some serious impatience and correcting me. But, also, I was a little like “CHILD, YOU NEARLY JUST CAUSED PERMANENT VISION IMPAIRMENT THAT IM PRETTY SURE MAYBELINE WOULD CONSIDER A USER ERROR AND THEREFOR NOT COVER THE COST OF A NEW EYEBALL FOR. AND I CAN’T PULL OFF AN EYE PATCH.”
And also: “YOU CAN’T BE THE PATIENCE POLICE WHEN YOU LITERALLY JUST LOST YOUR MARBLES BECAUSE THE HELIUM FILLED BA-YOONS (balloons) KEPT FLOATING.”
But, I managed to regain composure, smile and say “you’re right baby. Mama needs to be patient, huh?”
And that’s the story of the day Emerson kind-of-learned the meaning of patience and I pretty-much-decided to do my makeup in the car after I drop the judgy little heathens at daycare.
So, hang in there Moms and Dads, some day our kids will finally “get” all of the moral-driven lessons we’ve been so responsibly teaching them.
In the meantime, just cross your fingers, toes and eyes that they remember you at least said “please” when yelling “For the love of all that is holy, PLEASE stop putting your legos in the mother f’n toaster before I cancel Christmas!” Because, manners are important.
Everyday Mama 