If I were to jot down a list of things I’d rather avoid, it would definitely include kneeling on unforgiving floors and engaging with toys that have likely spent too much time in a science experiment gone wrong.
Recently, my delightful daughter, with her sparkling eyes, beamed at me after a long day as she asked if I wanted to join her in a hairstyling adventure while she splashed in the tub.
Honestly? No, I really didn’t want to play that game. My knees were already protesting, and the thought of diving into Mermaid Barbie’s probably germ-infested hair made me want to conjure up an excuse to escape. Surely, there were chores to tackle or some other distraction to indulge in, but sometimes you just have to put on your grown-up hat, even when you’d rather not.
I know I must let my kids down in small ways often, like when I kiss them in public or refuse to let them cover their faces in tattoos before family gatherings, but I don’t want to disappoint them all the time. I want them to remember me as more fun than I actually am, wiser than they believe, and genuinely interested in their endless chatter about video games and craft techniques, even when my mind is elsewhere.
It wasn’t until I handed my kids over to my own mom that I recognized how her patience wore thin with the little ones. It wasn’t unkind, just a result of her filter having worn down over decades. I never realized this as a child. I only recall her patiently waiting while I selected books at the library, expertly unraveling tangles, and smiling as I helped her bake. She was always there, quietly observing yet probably dreaming of all the things she wanted to do for herself.
From driving me to activities she found boring to ensuring every birthday was filled with gifts from my favorite characters, my mom created a treasure trove of joyful memories that I cherished.
Reflecting on this, I looked down at my daughter that night, eagerly awaiting my response with a mermaid doll in each hand, surrounded by the fluffy bubbles I had whipped up using my special technique. I smiled, setting aside my fatigue and impatience, and said, “Of course, sweetheart!”
I spent the next half hour crafting mohawks and side ponytails at the tub’s edge, determined to embrace the moment. The next day, I even taught myself how to French braid Ariel’s tangled locks, preparing for the next time she invites me to join her in our special bath-time hairstyling game.
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In summary, motherhood often requires us to step beyond our comfort zones and engage in activities that may not seem appealing. However, these moments of connection can create lasting memories and nurture our relationships with our children.