Yohannes had set me off – I had set him off. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
Minutes after the initial infraction, I could not remember even a piece of what started it. But I could remember what he said, and how it made me feel. He muttered, under his breath, just loud enough so I could hear “A real mom wouldn’t do that.”
The comment had hit its mark. Not that he had any particular motivation for saying it. My triggers are mine, and mine alone.
The immediate anger that gripped me, took on a life of it’s own, and I was at Yohannes’ side in two swooping steps. I loomed larger than life over top of him.
“What - - did - - you - - say?” I asked.
He looked at me and with fear in his eyes and said, “Nothing.”
“Please remove yourself from this space!” I spat, while pointing my arm into the air to reveal a space, just over there, that might welcome him. Like a tank readying for battle, he hunkered down and shot back, “NO!”
I gripped his broad and bold shoulders and dug my fingers in to guide him out of the kitchen.
He yelped, “Ouch! Let go! I can do it myself!”
So, I let go, turned on my heel, took a deep breath, and simply shook my head back and forth, wondering how I could be so affected by the simple words of a child. When he had rounded the corner to go upstairs, he turned back, peering around the wall that now separated us, and sneered, “You are a bad mother.” As I turned toward him, he took the stairs two at a time, and hurried into his room.
I continued making lunches and getting things ready for the day. But not before I screamed up the stairs at him, “You don’t even know what a good mother you have!” Reflecting back, it seems like kind of a ridiculous thing to scream at a moment like that.
It did however give me an idea. I took a moment to calm myself, and then I grabbed a pad of paper and a pen. I took it up to Yohannes. When I opened the door to his room, he was huddled in his bed, with his blankets pulled up around him. As I write this now, I am filled with compassion for my son, but in that moment, I was feeling hurt, and somewhat indignant. I approached and handed him the paper, as if he had simply been waiting for it all along.
“What is this for?” he asked sullenly.
“I would like you to write down your thoughts about what a good mother would look like.” I answered simply. And then I left.
Truly, I did not expect him to do it. The fact was, I knew it had not been a stellar parenting moment for me. But I felt wounded, and I wanted some kind of retribution – and that was all I could come up with!
He came downstairs a little while later, holding a sheet of paper in his hands. His whole demeanor had changed, softened. He asked me to look at it, but I was feeling rushed at that point to get everyone out the door and to school on time, so I told him we would talk about it after school. Looking back, I wish I had stopped and taken a brief moment with him to reflect on what had happened between us and repair the damage. But, I didn’t.
After school, the first thing that Yohannes did when we got home was to go and get me his written work. He was excited to show it to me. I turned my full attention to him. He wanted to read it out loud. I could see that he had written a whole page, and drawn some pictures at the bottom. Here is what he wrote, word for word (colors and all).
What would a good mother do?
. A good mother would not smack or pinch her child.
. A good mother would pretect her child.
. A good mother would have pride in her child for trying a new thing.
. A good mother will keep me helthy.
. A good mother will meet her child’s needs.
. A good mother makes her/his lunch.
That’s what a good mother would do and that exactly what you do.
Mom I am sorry for saying that you are a bad Mother.
Do you exept my aplagy? check yes or no.
thank you
Mom you’re the best mother in the World! And you do all of that stuff!
After he finished reading it to me, I have to say, I was feeling several things; but most of all, I felt complete and utter shock. I could not believe that a human could come up with that after being spoken harshly to, after being shepherded gracelessly from the room, and after being admonished harshly for even having the completely unjustifiable notion that I was a bad mom – let alone speaking it out loud!
Here was a great teacher. And I felt quietly humbled.
He had not only taken the paper and (multi-coloured) pen I had offered and done what I asked, he had done it with thought and tenderness. As he asked for my forgiveness, he had already forgiven me. I was amazed.
We talked a bit about action and reaction. I took responsibility for my own part in the rupture, and said that I too was sorry. The current of life moved on, and I am still in awe of his ability. However, I know that he did not stumble upon this ability to repair a ‘falling out’ all by himself; I realize that there are moments in my own parenting journey where I make myself look bad, and there are also moments in which I model compassion, understanding and forgiveness. At times we mirror each other, and in that moment I saw the possibility of goodness that exists in all of us.
