LJ Idol - Week 4 - "I don't skate to where the puck is. I skate to where the puck is going to be."
This is not how I wanted tonight to go.
It started off great.
We sang, we played. We ate a good supper, and were getting towards the witching hour; the dangerous time of night when reading the situation right can lead to a smooth and joyful hour, but reading it wrong can lead to nothing but a fight.
We read it wrong a lot. After all, she’s only three.
Tonight went spectacularly wrong, though, more wrong that it’s ever gone before. She’s still sobbing, even now.
Like I said, it started off great. She was tired after her first day back at daycare, a little put out that her best friend Henry wasn’t there and wouldn’t be back until next week, but nothing that a few cuddles and some playtime wouldn’t cure.
She didn’t love all of supper, but what toddler does? She ate the mashed potatoes and the peas and corn and tried the ribs, and what more can you ask for. There was a bit of negotiation over dessert, but we won that one handily.
There was naked running and chasing and laughing and a nice long soak in a warm bath and then…
She zigged when I expected her to zag. And I was all alone, in front of an open net - but the puck was at the other end of the ice.
It was the battle of cleaning up, you see. Usually she’s great, sings the cleanup song, uses the net to to swoop up all the little floating toys with the sweetest giggles, pulls the plug and into a nice cozy towel.
But not tonight. Tonight was “No, Never!” and “I don’t want to clean up.”
And I tried to be rational. Maybe that was my mistake.
I kept my irritation in check, and reminded her we needed to do this before jammies and milk and stories. Nothing I said moved her, though. She was unyielding, a pillar of stone. Traits that will serve her well in the long run, yes. But negotiation and knowing when to back off are also traits that will be needed in the future.
Mostly by me, if tonight is any indication.
Anyway, we were at an impasse. She wouldn’t clean up, I wouldn’t back down that she needed to (not sure where she got that stubborn streak, no clue at all).
And I had a brainwave.
She’s three, right? She can talk, it’s time to learn about consequences, she’s headed headed off to school in a few months. Let this be a learning opportunity and a chance for me to get some insight into that mysterious little mind.
Let’s ask her what the consequence should be for not cleaning up.
I figured she wouldn’t come up with anything, not really understand the idea. But no, she instantly came up with a suggestion - don’t help clean up, no stories.
And I zagged again. I should have taken a moment, made sure she knew what she was saying, made sure she knew what she was really giving up. I should have talked it through, given her a few more chances to help. If I’d come up with a consequence, it would have been lighter, gentler; put some of the toys under the sink in time out, for example.
But I didn’t. She suggested no, she can live with the consequences.
And I said okay.
And I cleaned up.
And she started to wail.
Oh, she understood consequences all right. She knew I wasn’t about to back down. These weren’t sobs of anger, they weren’t screams intended to punish me or make me give in.
This was grief. This was regret. This was sorrow.
And my heart broke.
But I stood firm.
I smoothed lotion on her soft skin - she cried.
I dressed her for bed - she cried.
I gave her some milk - she cried.
I brushed her teeth - she cried.
I cuddled her and sang songs (but no stories) - she cried.
I laid her down and told her I loved her and kissed her goodnight and closed the door.
She cried.
She cried for 35 minutes, which both isn’t long and feels like eternity.
She’s quiet now. We all are.
I’m not sure what she learned; I hope she learned that actions have consequences, and that everyone helps out. I’m afraid she learned that consequences can be much worse than the crime, and that Mommy doesn’t give second chances.
I know I learned something. I learned I won’t give in, even in the face of heartbreak. But I also learned that I’ll rationalize a excessive punishment, that I’ll stand behind the wrong choice, just because I don’t want to look weak.
She zigged. And I wasn’t ready for it.
But I will be next time.