Five Minute Friday: Because

Every week, a whole heap of fabulous women get together and write for Five Minute Friday. Today's prompt is...

BECAUSE

Go.

It was 'red day.' As I came in to wake her, I paused to capture the memory of stuffed animals surrounding her head, the comforter pulled up to her chin, and the wavy mess of hair across her forehead. I brushed her hair aside. It's time to wake up honey. It's red day! It's going to be a great day!

She promptly rolled over (catching glimpses of her teenage years), and with a waiver of tears in her throat she curtly stated, "I am not wearing red. It is not red day for me."

Shocked at the non-conformist reaction to red day, my face burned and I tried my hardest not to let the anger push past my lips. "But everyone will be wearing red, Miss E. You need to wear red."

"I don't like red. I am not wearing red. I want to be different."

I couldn't let it go. I didn't force her to wear red, but I couldn't let her be. I kept reminding her what everyone else would be doing. I forced a red sweatshirt on her brother, and even grabbed a red shirt for her school tote, telling her that if she changed her mind she would have the option to change at school.

As we drove the 30 minutes to school, my heart was saddened as the usually rambunctious and chatty girl sat in the back seat silently, staring out the window. I had broken her spirit of individuality and independence that morning. And I needed to fix it.

"Miss E, I am sorry. I should not have made you feel bad for not wearing red. I am proud of your decision this morning, and I'm proud that you stuck up for yourself. That was a brave thing to do. I love that you want to be different today."

She smiled at me in the rearview mirror.

Because I let my own insecurities get in the way, my own fears of rejection because of my differences, I almost let her go to the same place I go. I almost let her believe that it's not ok to be different.

But she is fearfully and wonderfully made, and because God was able to show me this glimpse of His mercy and grace, I was able to see past my own fears and insecurities. And because of this otherwise ordinary morning, a three year old changed the way I look at what it means to be comfortable in her own skin. She stuck up for herself against her own momma, and I could not have been more proud.

Stop.

Thanks for reading today! In case you're not familiar, next week (on October 1), I'll be venturing into an unknown territory: writing for 31 days straight on one topic. I'll continue with the Five Minute Friday prompts throughout the month, but I will try to stay on my theme of the month: Finding ways to Encourage Others Daily. I hope you'll join me on my adventure!

Until next time,

Mrs. Kuda

Toddler Tantrums vs. Preschooler Tantrums: A Commentary

Toddler Tantrum:

Mr. C (pointing, screaming, tears streaming): Ugh! Meh! Nana! Ugh! Meh! Nana!

Mrs. Kuda (calm voice, hiding smile because it's so darned cute but I know it's bad to laugh so I don't): We're eating dinner soon. No nana now. Would you like to play with your train?

C: (pointing, squealing toward train, smiling, laughing)

End of tantrum.

Preschooler Tantrum:

Miss E (whining, with the threat of tears): I want my peanut butter sandwich.

MK (calmly, but only because my eyes are closed I'm and breathing deeply because this is the fifteenth time today she has both whined and demanded something without using please or thank you or anything kind that she said when she was not giving me previews of what she'll be like when she's sixteen): Let's try that a different way.

E (whining, higher voice, tears in eyes): I want my peanut butter sandwich on a plate and carrots and an M&M. NOW.

MK (eyes still closed, calm but strained voice): That's not how we ask for things. Try again.

E (full blown tears, now hanging off side of her chair): Saying PUH-LEASE is so HAAAARRRRRD. I want my lunch!!! I am so hungry!!!

Tears continue. Sent to room. Thirty minutes later, Miss E starts laughing, comes down stairs: I'm so sorry mommy! I love you! May I please have my sandwich now?

End of tantrum?

Sigh.

Until next time,

Mrs. Kuda

We're Grumpy (aka, mommy fail)

Today was just one of those days. Daylight Savings Time has totally screwed with the Kudas in a not so fun way. I should've expected it at some point, but I'm just going to go ahead and say it: I totally deserved it.

"Mommy, I'm grumpy."

For some reason, the loss or addition of an hour has never impacted us as far as the kiddos are concerned. If you'll recall, Miss E has always been a good sleeper, and to be quite honest, Mr. C isn't as good, but he's better than most. And why do I deserve the sudden punishment of all h*!! breaking loose in our house?

Because every time a mom told me how awful the time change was for her kids, on the outside I was providing a comforting (and knowing?) nod, while on the inside all I could think was, I am so awesome. My kids would never have this problem. Yup. Full disclosure: I was smug. I should have been thinking, I have the best kids in the world and am soooooooo lucky this hasn't impacted us!

Long story short, the past two days have sucked. And the worst part about this is the realization I had while waiting for Miss E to procrastinate as she went number two on the potty for THRITY-FIVE MINUTES after bedtime: I'm the problem here, not the change in time (though I have to say, our schedule is totally wack-a-doo right now because of it). When momma is grumpy, the clan is grumpy. Today was not my best. I was a short-fused, nay-saying, voice-raising hot mess. NO. I don't want you to climb on me and lick my face. NO. I don't want to hold you and your brother while both of you scream in my ears. And NO. Screaming in a banshee voice while also crying and waking your brother up will not afford you the chance to watch Mickey Mouse Club. Ever.

But while I sat there in the dark (per her request) while Miss E went potty, she told me, "Mommy is grumpy like Miss E." Yup. I sure was.

So after we cleaned up, I apologized. Which if you know me, is really hard for me to do, even if it's to a two year old. But shouldn't she know that even grown-ups make mistakes? And isn't it my job to teach her that, even when you have a really bad day and you take it out on people you love, you still have to apologize and own up to your actions?

Once again, the toddler teaches me more about life in five minutes than I've learned in thirty something years.

And by the way, I promise to NEVER be the smug momma again. I PROMISE! This daylight savings time change thingy is no joke.

Until next time,

Mrs. Kuda