Ordinary Days | Like mother, like daughter

On a recent school day, I asked my 6-year-old, Kate, to get her socks and shoes on for school. It was 7:40, and we had a couple of minutes before we needed to get in the car. Those couple of minutes passed, and instead of finding her with socks and shoes on standing at the front door, I poked my head in her room and found her sitting on the floor surrounded by stacks of papers, books and crayons — with bare feet. 

“Kate!” I said. “The first bell just rang, and you haven’t done anything I asked you to do!”

She looked around, then up at me as if she had no idea how she got on the floor, messing around with her books and papers. “Oh, sorry. I got distracted.”

Chaos ensued, and we finally got into the car to go to school. It was raining, so we went the long way to get through the carpool line. By the time we got to Oxmoor, I was still taking deep breaths to tamp down the frustration of being almost late because of a last-minute need to read or color or whatever she’d been doing instead of getting ready.

Then, waiting in line to turn onto Westover, I had an epiphany. 

She gets it from me.

I remembered earlier that same morning, I’d gone into the kitchen with the intention of making lunches, and instead, I started unloading the dishwasher. An important task, but not at 7:15 when breakfast and lunch need to be made. I could go into countless other times when I’ve started one task only to see something else that needs my attention, and there I go, starting a second project before the first one is finished.

“Kate, I owe you an apology,” I said.

“Why?”

“Because I got onto you for getting distracted, when you know what? I did the very same thing this morning.” I told her about the lunches and the dishwasher and how she’s a lot like me in that we both sometimes take a little too long to do things, because we try to do everything at once.

She laughed. “Maybe that’s something we should both work on,” she said.

The older Kate gets, the more I recognize myself in her. It’s often sweet to see your own characteristics or personality quirks in your children, but it’s harder, more uncomfortable, to see the flaws. 

Kate and I are both slow movers. We both have trouble making decisions, often agonizing over too many choices and not being able to decide which one is best. We don’t “deal well with change.” This means Kate can have a total come-apart if something outside our control changes our plans. I prefer to think my meltdowns are a little more internal. 

My hope is that as Matt and I fumble our way through this parenting thing, we can find that thin line between discipline and gentleness — between steering her to make wise decisions and still allowing her to be herself. 

I want to preserve her tender heart, but show her her strength. I want to help her focus when necessary, but not stifle that creative spirit that tells her to pull out her crayons and paper and make something beautiful now! Finding the balance is a big part of parenting for me — and I’m learning, maybe it’s a big part of being an adult, too. 

I’d love to connect! Email me at LaurenKDenton@gmail.com, find me on Twitter @LaurenKDenton, or visit my blog at laurenkdentonbooks.wordpress.com.