You guys, the whining. I can't accurately articulate it and it has no actual words - just this... noise. The best I can describe it is a baby pterodactyl with its legs being pulled. It's both angry and pissed. It makes me want to do my own momma pterodactyl noise back. That, or run and hide in the cupboard while eating the leftover Halloween candy we still have.
This noise. She made it today. I was in the shower; she was on my bed. It's a thing we do so that I don't smell throughout the day and yet I can keep some sort of an "eye" on her. More like an ear. Every 2 minutes I say "Bella, ya still there?" And she yells back, ticked that I don't trust her: YA MOM! (It's like she already has the teenager annoyed-with-her-mother voice down-pat!)
There was like a click-clack-clock of something hitting a hard surface as gravity did it's job. The sound of a mess. Then there was a pause so I assumed: SAFE!
But then... The scream. The beloved pterodactyl. Followed with, MY EGGS! MY EGGS FELL DOWN.
Bella, pick them up! I advised as a step-by-step process still getting the last bit of shampoo rinsed out of my hair. Eggs fall, you pick them up, right? No biggie.
But she kept whining. She kept yelling at me about them. Back and forth we went. And all was okay. I sat in the shower imagining the worst case scenario of what this egg explosion might look like so that I could better keep my calm-on.
I hopped out of the shower, dried off a bit and then stepped out to assess the damage. And there she sat. SAT. You guys, she was SITTING. Not picking up. Not doing her job. It wasn't the egg-astrophe, it was the lack of follow-through that upset me. Still calm, I mandated: Bella, pick 'em up!!
BUT THEY'RE GROSS! she pouted.
Fair. They were. I thought my floors got vacuumed but apparently my hair sheds like a chow-chow dog (I googled top shedding dogs and chow-chow is now my new favorite word!). The clumps of eggs mixed with my hair. I held back the gag in the back of the my throat and said, No honey you don't have to eat them. (while in the shower, I had been contemplating if the eggs would be salvable. One look and I'd never-ever make even my worst enemy eat those eggs!). But you do need to pick them up. Here, we can do it together!
BUT I DON'T LIKE HOW IT FEELS ON MY FIIIINGERS!! she yelled.
We can wash them! (this was a mommy moment I wasn't about to back down from. I stood firm.)
She still didn't help. And my own pterodactyl came out as I yelled for her to go to time out.
My parenting is up for debate. When, if, how I should have given her a timeout isn't what scrambled eggs on my floor taught me today. What it did teach me is I still have work to do with kindness; especially exemplifying to my daughter what it means to have a kind voice. (Because let's be honest, did the pterodactyl start with her... or me? Chicken or the egg convo at this point. Get it. EGG! #sofitting)
WE DO RE-DOs.
My sister has these words printed on a plaque on a wall in her home.
Ever since sis taught me these words they have not made their way on my walls (because I suck at decorating) but they have made their way into my home.
So I sat Bella on the foot-rail of my bed and asked her if I could do a re-do with my voice.
It always amazes me how much grace she has, like every time. Kids are amazing like that.
But it's important to me. Re-Dos. They're important.
It's important I acknowledge my own need for growth, absolutely. And it's also really important to me that my daughter learns that perfect isn't possible. It's that we pursue love. Always.
Today, scrambled eggs on my carpet taught me a lot about myself and how I do love. Better, how I can do love better.
You? You got any scrambled egg moments in your day you need a re-do on? If so, get at it.
PS - I resolved the carpet (like you know, that red spray bottle cleaner stuff, Resolve?). I got the big chunks of egg picked up. But when I ran the towel over the sprayed area, little scrambly eggs flew up and I resolved to just quit life in the moment. I hope they dry up for the vacuum to get or something. Some were pretty smashed in there though. I don't know. It's life. And sometimes you just gotta let scrambled eggs lie!