Tea Party?

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On the mornings that we run late to school, all manners are gone. 

This morning, my girls had a tea party at school. I knew that this tea party was a big deal. It’s a time for them to show off their manners, get dressed up in frilly dresses, over the top hats, and shiny jewelry and shoes. But, my husband was out of town for work so it was up to me to get the girls ready for the big school party. So the night before the tea party, we picked out their outfits and all their accessories. But today we woke up late and had to rush getting ready.

We don’t rush well.

The tag on Adeline’s dress itched, so I had to cut it. The Tinkerbell shoes that Maralee picked out hurt her feet, so she tried to take Adeline’s shoes. Adeline wanted her hair down and it looked messy. Maralee didn’t want to brush her teeth. I kept telling them to hurry up, we were going to be late, but they kept whining and not listening to me. Finally, ten minutes before the party began, I burst out yelling, “Get in the car. NOW!” It was an awful moment of shame for me as a mother. The hot tears were stinging my eyes, and I was most certainly not in the mood for a tea party with my girls.

We careened into the parking lot just when the party began at 8:45. I didn’t have time to take the baby to daycare at our church just down the road, so I unloaded his stroller and wheeled him in with me. Maralee was still complaining about her shoes, and it was then that I realized I forgot to bring them an extra pair to change into after the party. Fail, again. She’s crying, so she was not in the tea party mood either, and we stopped in the midway to just catch our breath for a moment. I knelt down and wiped away the tears that stained her sweet face. I knew she was upset about more than the shoes. Adeline comes over and tells me that they don’t like it when I yell at them. I look into their young blue eyes and admit that I don’t like it when I yell either. I offer my apology and a huge hug, and then we walk into the building late but together.

Inside, the preschool hall has huge banners hanging from the ceilings decorated with a tea pot and the letter T. The outside of each classroom is set up like a child’s tea party with stuffed animals sitting at tables with tea cups. It is fantastically over the top and special. Inside, each table is set with a yellow laminated place mat, white paper doily, and flowers at the center. We were the last ones to arrive, of course, but I just find a place in the corner for the baby’s stroller and send the girls to their seats.

For the party, the teacher leads all the children in singing a rhyme about their manners and “I’m a little tea pot.” It is at this time that I realize that I forgot my mom camera and my iphone so I just watch instead of document this sweet moment. My girls give me a smile and thumbs up. I’m relieved that they are enjoying themselves and have forgotten our our getting ready debacle. Afterward, the little boys take the little girls by the hand and pull their seat out for them to sit at the table. It was such a heart-melting moment and all I could do was treasure it in my heart instead of on film.

After the party, I head back to our house to retrieve the girls shoes and that is when my tears begin to fall. I cry out of sheer exhaustion, shame, and sentiment. Motherhood is hard. What was supposed to be special and sweet turned into something out of a horror film for me. My behavior was unacceptable. I always tell the girls to listen to me, but was I really stopping to listen to myself? Because now that I finally was, I was embarrassed of losing my cool. I didn’t want my girls to remember me as a mommy that was always yelling at them. What kind of example was I really setting for them by having my own mommy meltdown?

It was on this day that I made a rule with myself: No More Yelling.

Losing my cool never adds up to a positive amount, it always equals negative. How can I do incredibly hard things like survive the NICU and compete in a triathlon and birth children but not be able to handle everyday things like getting ready and out the door on time? How are my children going to admire me as their mom if their childhood memories consist of moments where I lost it and set a negative environment for them, especially on special days like tea parties?

While crying, I call my husband. He’s two thousand miles away, but I hope that his voice would make him seem closer. He tells me that I’m not a bad mother, but I don’t believe him. If I was a good mother, then why do I have this bad feeling in the pit of my stomach?

Later that day at lunch, my friend Amy who is a mom to two teenage girls can tell that I’m deflated and not my usual self. I explain how long the day had been and she asks me, “Did your girls enjoy the party, in spite of what happened while getting ready?”

I thought for a second and a flash of Maralee smiling at me across the room, similar to how she smiled in that picture on the beach came into my head.

“Yes,” I respond.

She assures me that just because I had a bad moment doesn’t mean that I’m a bad mother. Looking into her eyes, I believed her. Being a mother is harder than running a triathlon or winning an arm wrestling contest. Motherhood is a test of perseverance and endurance, and it took me losing my temper to realize that my character is still being formed. I’m not always going to be the most perfect example to my children but I can admit that my behavior has room to improve when I’m put in stressful situations like preparing for a preschool tea party.

I regret how I responded to my children earlier today. But, I have to keep moving and not dwell in that moment. The tears just opened all of us for more hugs and snuggles and apologetic words. Being four is just as hard as being thirty, and we have to respond to one another gently and calmly in order for us to get through hard moments.

Would you share with us a difficult mommy moment? We would love to hear it!

Stephanie Shott
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