Reaction Reflections in the Rear-View

Hindsight. It’s terribly graphic, wouldn’t you agree?

What flows from our thoughts and speech in the space of a second can occupy our doubts and anxiety for months at a time.

At the time, I feel compelled to argue, I was more than a little emotionally stretched. Sleepless nights, a symphony of insincere tantrums and the taste of tepid coffee in my mouth were cause enough. But it was, perhaps the 758,9813th time that I had stepped on Thomas and his wee friend Percy, which tipped me off the edge of the tightrope.

‘Mummy, what are you doing?’ Miss Boo watched on perplexed as I rolled up the contents of her train collection in the living room rug, positioned it on the front step and slammed the front door behind it.

‘How many times did I ask you to pick them up!? You have had three days Boo, threeee daaaays, you didn’t do it so I cleaned them up my way,’ I had huffed, sinking back down on the couch and wondering just how much sanity I had spent on the exercise.

Extreme case, I’ll grant you that. But how many times have you caught yourself flushed cheeked and frowning, questioning your reaction to parenting tests?

This example merely introduces the others. On more than one occasion I have sarcastically hi-fived myself and muttered ‘Oh well done Dee, start writing your Mother Of The Year acceptance speech’.

The problem is, in the parenting world, these reactions are dramatically emphasized by the Mum guilt that succeeds them. There is a reason they call them ‘punch lines’. No matter what answer or statement the child closes with, it is designed to punch you in the emotional balls.

‘Mummy!’

‘Yes?’

‘Mummy!’

‘Yes?’

‘MUMMY!’

‘Yeeeesss?’

‘MUUUUUUMMMMMY!!’

‘WHAT?!?!’

‘….umm, I love you.’

Bollocks.

It is the unfortunate 101st’s attack that will wear the brunt of the 100 that preceded it. Regardless of what that may be.

‘In.A.Minute!’ we say though clenched teeth as a child swings from our legs demanding a cup of juice, then later dissolve into a puddle of despair thinking to ourselves, why’o’why didn’t I just hang the phone up and spend that precious five minutes pouring her juice, patting her on the head and sending her on her way?!

Time is concentrated and pushing against us from all sides. Not enough to spare, not enough to waste, too much elapsed to handle.

Our conscious and subconscious battle daily and test upon test unfolds. It is like sitting a parenting HSC exam every single day without a moment’s notice to study.

‘Don’t leave your toys in the kitchen Boo, pick them up please.’

Give her a minute to clean them, she just got distracted. She’s a child.

‘Boo, I asked you an hour ago. Come on, pick them up, now.’

Don’t snap at her yet, just give her a warning. I will not be that cranky cow today.

‘This.is.the.last.time.I.am.going.to.ask.you.’

Don’t snap, don’t snap, don’t snap, don’t snap, don’t snap, don’t snap.

Crying…. Tripping…..phone ringing….dinner burning….

‘THAT IS IT! THEY ARE GOING ON THE NAUGHTY SHELF AND I AM WRITING A LETTER TO SANTA TELLING HIM THAT YOU DON’T LOOK AFTER THE TOYS YOU ALREADY HAVE!’

Well done. You’ve just yelled at a child and threatened her with mythical warfare. Epic fail. I hope Santa isn’t watching you in this dismal display.

In all honesty, if I were to be presented with a list of all my parenting reactions, I would probably disagree with at least 78% of them.

The times I snapped because I was wearing the stress of previous concerns. The times I wish I had had the patience to simply breathe and quip ‘Yes baby, I can see it’. The times I should have taken the pawing at my legs as an indication of wanting to be included and not as frustrating. The times I should have stopped what I was doing and rocked Moo a little bit longer, knowing she was crying for just an extra second with me. All the times I walked cross and exasperated out of a room to the sound of tears and the calls of‘Muuuuuuuummmmy’.

(…The times Boo caught me pouring a glass of red and I told her it was Mummy’s special Rosie Tea to avoid her implying to friends that Mummy was a wino… etc.)

Yep. Those moments. The gems that have me choking on my stilletoed foot.

At the end of the day, we are humans in a superhero’s job. When our cup is full, it is inevitable that it will spill over when ruptured.

I can spend every morning of my life sitting in a meditative state in contorted yoga positions, but I am merely a human and I will still crack when the repeated phrase ‘DON’T climb that’ is met with the crash and bang of a child tumbling.

The guilt we feel, the responses we run with, are set in place not to test our ability, but to train us to suit our children.

When one is screaming and the other is clenching their thighs together and demanding to be taken to the toilet, how are we to decipher who is more worthy of our time? We will never make the right decision all the time.

But what we reflect on as bad is what forces us to take a breath and choose differently the next time around. The hindsight view that cripples our heart and plays over like the fading montage of a midday movie is not there to provide evidence of our downfalls. It is there to ensure that next time, we will slow down the moment and perch the little one on the bench, ignoring how much flour she sprinkles onto the floor.

It reminds us to allow them into our world when all they want is the gift of our attention, because, who knows when that is the last time they’ll ask for it.

We are not wrong, or right, or failing, or unworthy.

We are simply practising the fact that kids will be kids….. and Mummy’s will be human.

*** For the beautiful K.J... the very reason why we should go back and say I love you just one more time x