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It's Monday morning, and I'm sad. Not because it's Monday. Not because my dishwasher broke, and I have two loads worth of dishes in the sink. Not even because it's summer vacation, and we have a long, hot 2 1/2 months of
Graduation should have been a fun-filled night focused on an amazing little boy who mastered much more in the past two years than the alphabet and cutting straight lines. Should have. Instead, I was dealing with a sick baby who had me at urgent care he night before with a high fever. I was exhausted. Emotionally Spent.
So I was dealing with fussy, still feverish baby sister, trying to predict what she might possibly need to keep her from breaking down in hysterics, and trying to coax my son to eat dinner at 4:30 (even though he normally eats at 6:00) because it takes him an HOUR to eat and we had to be out the door by 5:10 and wouldn't be home till 7:30, but he wanted to wait for daddy who wouldn't be home until 5:00...yeah, I was starting to lose my cool.
In the middle of the chaos, he said it. "I'm not going to eat any treats tonight."
"Whatever," I grumbled.
I know, I know, I could've been nicer about it. Pulling teenage attitude is not the answer, especially when I am WELL into my thirties. I should know better, But I had heard about it all week. For five days straight!!
He first started in with the discussion on Monday as we drove home from school. In a mopy voice he said, "We're going to sing songs and then go to the commons when we're done. There's going to be treats but I'm not having any of them." He let out a big sigh.
Here's the thing: this kid could be related to Cookie Monster. That's how much he loves treats. I've tried to explain the concept of fueling our body with good foods and the consequences of eating junk food. We don't eat a lot of sweets in our house, so when he does get a treat, it's just that: a special occasion indulgence. However, just like I've never stopped him from having birthday cake, I wouldn't deprive him of a graduation cookie.
"Kiddo, it's a big day. You can celebrate and have some treats."
He stared out the window. In a pitiful voice he said, "There's going to be three types of treats, but I'm not going to have any of them."
"Maybe just two, then," I suggested. "That would be a nice way to celebrate but not have too much." Honestly I wouldn't have cared if he had all three. He would only graduate preschool once. And it's not like they were giving the kids death-by-chocolate cake. It was cookies and Rice Krispie treats.
"No." He frowned.
"It's up to you," I said. "It's okay with me, though, if you want to you have some treats to celebrate your graduation. You've worked hard. It's your night to celebrate."
And that was it...until the next time he brought it up. My answer was always the same. Finally, I broke.
"Maybe I shouldn't have any," he continued with a heavy sigh.
I'm embarrassed to tell you what came next, but I'm telling you because I, too, am human to a fault, to many faults. Too many faults. I unleashed in a verbal tirade, telling him I'd had enough of his passive-aggressive behavior and that I didn't care what he did, as long as I didn't have to hear about it anymore. Not one. More. Word!!
Looking back, I know I was overreacting., but try telling that to an exhausted, frazzled mom. who can't hear her own thoughts over a screaming baby and whining five year old.
That night, in a room full of sniffling parents and grandparents, I listened fondly as the kids sing "If I were a butterfly." I remembered singing that song as a kid and doing all the hand movements. Even though I hadn't sung it in years, the words and movements came back naturally. As was one of my childhood favorites, I was glad to see my son enjoying it the same way. My mind drifted back to a few days earlier when we went swimming...so this was why he pretended his hands were butterfly wings that we had to rescue and care for.
I swallowed hard as the teachers gave their tear-filled speeches about what an impact the children made on their lives over the past two years. His teacher has been amazing, accommodating my son when he cried because he missed us, giving him special jobs to keep him interested and not letting my mild-mannered boy get lost in the mix.
I clapped fiercely as my son's name was called, first to lead his class to the stage and then to get his promotion.. Of course he was the leader, I thought to myself. I'm not saying this as a braggy parent. As the oldest student in his class, he was also one of the most trustworthy, well-behaved kids. It's part of his mature, serious nature. His teacher knew he would set a great example. She saw things in him that as a stay-at-home mom going through the grind, I sometimes let slip out of my sight.
And then I listened to one last song. "I am a promise. I am possibility. I am a promise." Laughter filled the room as the kids made great big P's out of their arms and again when they sang, "I am a great big bundle of potentiality." How can you not laugh as a group of four and five year olds draws out the word 'potentiality' to ten syllables? But my laughs were quickly replaced with tears. He was telling me in a song what I felt like I don't tell him often enough. "I am learning to hear God's voice. And I am trying to make the right choice."
Suddenly it hit me that in his discussion about treats, he was doing just that, trying so hard to make the right choice. Such a simple decision for me, it was huge for him. After repeatedly hearing the message that things like brownies and cookies are bad for our bodies but still okay to eat sometimes, I'm not sure that my black-and-white, rule-following boy knows what to make of that. It's bad for us but we still have it...sometimes? And yet when it comes to playing with the new girl in class because she doesn't know anyone else, or sharing his truck
He won't alw ays make the right choice, as hard as that will be for me to watch. But I must accept it. Just as God grants us grace, I, too, must extend grace. And whe s with his sister, he doesn't even flinch. He doesn't need to be prompted to say thank you and please to complete strangers. He is making the right choice so many times every single day.n he feels conflicted about his choices, it's my job as his mother to listen and guide him.
Now when I find myself getting frustrated, I imagine his sweet voice singing the words, a gentle reminder of his unlimited potential to do amazing things. To do the right thing.
triple-digit temps ahead of us. I'm sad because my little boy is no longer a preschooler. As of last Thursday night he was "promoted" - although he was back at school on Friday for the last day. Try explaining that one.
Graduation should have been a fun-filled night focused on an amazing little boy who mastered much more in the past two years than the alphabet and cutting straight lines. Should have. Instead, I was dealing with a sick baby who had me at urgent care he night before with a high fever. I was exhausted. Emotionally Spent.
So I was dealing with fussy, still feverish baby sister, trying to predict what she might possibly need to keep her from breaking down in hysterics, and trying to coax my son to eat dinner at 4:30 (even though he normally eats at 6:00) because it takes him an HOUR to eat and we had to be out the door by 5:10 and wouldn't be home till 7:30, but he wanted to wait for daddy who wouldn't be home until 5:00...yeah, I was starting to lose my cool.
In the middle of the chaos, he said it. "I'm not going to eat any treats tonight."
"Whatever," I grumbled.
I know, I know, I could've been nicer about it. Pulling teenage attitude is not the answer, especially when I am WELL into my thirties. I should know better, But I had heard about it all week. For five days straight!!
He first started in with the discussion on Monday as we drove home from school. In a mopy voice he said, "We're going to sing songs and then go to the commons when we're done. There's going to be treats but I'm not having any of them." He let out a big sigh.
Here's the thing: this kid could be related to Cookie Monster. That's how much he loves treats. I've tried to explain the concept of fueling our body with good foods and the consequences of eating junk food. We don't eat a lot of sweets in our house, so when he does get a treat, it's just that: a special occasion indulgence. However, just like I've never stopped him from having birthday cake, I wouldn't deprive him of a graduation cookie.
"Kiddo, it's a big day. You can celebrate and have some treats."
He stared out the window. In a pitiful voice he said, "There's going to be three types of treats, but I'm not going to have any of them."
"Maybe just two, then," I suggested. "That would be a nice way to celebrate but not have too much." Honestly I wouldn't have cared if he had all three. He would only graduate preschool once. And it's not like they were giving the kids death-by-chocolate cake. It was cookies and Rice Krispie treats.
"No." He frowned.
"It's up to you," I said. "It's okay with me, though, if you want to you have some treats to celebrate your graduation. You've worked hard. It's your night to celebrate."
And that was it...until the next time he brought it up. My answer was always the same. Finally, I broke.
"Maybe I shouldn't have any," he continued with a heavy sigh.
I'm embarrassed to tell you what came next, but I'm telling you because I, too, am human to a fault, to many faults. Too many faults. I unleashed in a verbal tirade, telling him I'd had enough of his passive-aggressive behavior and that I didn't care what he did, as long as I didn't have to hear about it anymore. Not one. More. Word!!
Looking back, I know I was overreacting., but try telling that to an exhausted, frazzled mom. who can't hear her own thoughts over a screaming baby and whining five year old.
That night, in a room full of sniffling parents and grandparents, I listened fondly as the kids sing "If I were a butterfly." I remembered singing that song as a kid and doing all the hand movements. Even though I hadn't sung it in years, the words and movements came back naturally. As was one of my childhood favorites, I was glad to see my son enjoying it the same way. My mind drifted back to a few days earlier when we went swimming...so this was why he pretended his hands were butterfly wings that we had to rescue and care for.
I swallowed hard as the teachers gave their tear-filled speeches about what an impact the children made on their lives over the past two years. His teacher has been amazing, accommodating my son when he cried because he missed us, giving him special jobs to keep him interested and not letting my mild-mannered boy get lost in the mix.
I clapped fiercely as my son's name was called, first to lead his class to the stage and then to get his promotion.. Of course he was the leader, I thought to myself. I'm not saying this as a braggy parent. As the oldest student in his class, he was also one of the most trustworthy, well-behaved kids. It's part of his mature, serious nature. His teacher knew he would set a great example. She saw things in him that as a stay-at-home mom going through the grind, I sometimes let slip out of my sight.
And then I listened to one last song. "I am a promise. I am possibility. I am a promise." Laughter filled the room as the kids made great big P's out of their arms and again when they sang, "I am a great big bundle of potentiality." How can you not laugh as a group of four and five year olds draws out the word 'potentiality' to ten syllables? But my laughs were quickly replaced with tears. He was telling me in a song what I felt like I don't tell him often enough. "I am learning to hear God's voice. And I am trying to make the right choice."
Suddenly it hit me that in his discussion about treats, he was doing just that, trying so hard to make the right choice. Such a simple decision for me, it was huge for him. After repeatedly hearing the message that things like brownies and cookies are bad for our bodies but still okay to eat sometimes, I'm not sure that my black-and-white, rule-following boy knows what to make of that. It's bad for us but we still have it...sometimes? And yet when it comes to playing with the new girl in class because she doesn't know anyone else, or sharing his truck
He won't alw ays make the right choice, as hard as that will be for me to watch. But I must accept it. Just as God grants us grace, I, too, must extend grace. And whe s with his sister, he doesn't even flinch. He doesn't need to be prompted to say thank you and please to complete strangers. He is making the right choice so many times every single day.n he feels conflicted about his choices, it's my job as his mother to listen and guide him.
Now when I find myself getting frustrated, I imagine his sweet voice singing the words, a gentle reminder of his unlimited potential to do amazing things. To do the right thing.