Listen to this:
Monday, August 6, 2012
My girls are five and seven years old. I run for them and because of them. Translation, I want to set a good example for them and sometimes they drive me nuts. This Monday morning I was dealing with the latter. My seven year old was up first. Unbeknownst to me, she has figured out how to find her favorite shows 'On Demand' so she simply snuck down and started watching. When I came down and poked my head in the room, she looked at me and said, "what?" as if the fact that she'd set herself up with "Good Luck Charlie" was something she'd been doing for years. Ok, fine. This one I could deal with. We had a quick 'check with me first even if you don't need my help' conversation and I moved on. I sensed a little eye rolling, but I decided to let it be. I did note, however, how fun that will be to deal with as she gets older. Next, my five year old walked in and informed me that she no longer wanted to go to gymnastics camp this week. I explained to her that she had asked me to sign her up back in May and that it wasn't free so she would need to buck up and give it a try to which she responded, "ok, but I changed my mind." Awesome. We packed everything up and headed out the door all while my little one kept reminding me that she actually wasn't going to go which I chose to ignore. We got to the gym and I asked my seven year old where her bag was. She gave me a blank stare and said, "I thought you had it?" I was taking deep breaths at this point as I shuffled them inside. I could feel a slight grip on my leg as I let the teachers know that I had to come back with the lunch and towel that "we" forgot. When I returned, my five year old was sitting by herself in the corner with tears running down her cheeks refusing to participate. So I left and hoped for the best. And then I ran. And despite the heat and humidity and my feelings of frustration and anger, I was ok. And with each step, I got better. And by the end, I had left it all behind. Until Tuesday morning.