Charlotte, what is this? Holding a clump of brown curly locks in my hand, she looked back at me and responded, “I not know.” Is this your hair? Did you cut your hair?! These were rhetorical questions because I could vividly see where she snipped her curls. My mood was beginning to dim.
Growing up, we were not allowed mood swings in our home. It did not matter how we felt that day or what side of the bed we woke up on. We had better be polite and considerate of one another; this was not foolproof. Many times, I found myself in trouble for my behavior. Nevertheless, it was always dealt with.
Dad was not one to sugarcoat anything. He always told my sister, “If you’re gonna ride with me, you ride beside me. I better not have to look back to try and find you.” And Brittney knew he meant it. Mom never walked on eggshells around our feelings, either. If the dress was not flattering, she said it. It wasn’t that my parents were trying to be cruel. They simply were not going to tolerate our feelings over maturity.
As parents, we tend to excuse our children’s behavior based on the time of day and whether or not they have had adequate rest. My parents never did this, or at least I don’t remember it. The only excuse they gave me was from the table.
Now that I have my kids, I can see my folks sitting quietly when moods flare, and the girls get tended to. I can feel them watching, waiting to see how we handle the situation. I am sure we fail at some key moments, and then others we nail. When the latter happens, I subtly beam with pride.
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The other day, I overheard Chuck correcting Eva about something. He pronounced, “I don’t care how you feel about it. When you make a mistake, you own it and move on. Stop sitting in your feelings.” Standing in the kitchen, I said quietly to myself, “Well, hello, handsome!” (wink)
I can remember an occasion where Mom and Dad were getting gas. A man walked up to the pump where Dad was. He small-talked with my father for a few minutes. When Dad finished pumping, he looked at the man and voiced, “Your fly is open.” My mother told him. “You could not have thought of a more subtle way to tell him than that!”
While taking our children to a local restaurant this past summer, an older gentleman approached our table and said, “Can I intrude on you all just a minute? Seeing a family sitting together and enjoying one another’s company is so nice. And your children are very well-behaved. Your youngest is very small, yet she seems to know how to act publicly.” Chuck and I laughed because we know our children better than anyone. They are far from perfect, but we are proud of them, as any parent should be. But in that moment, I had never been more thankful for my upbringing and Chucks as well.
Thanking the gentlemen for his kind compliment, he responded point blank, “No. Thank you. For doing what you need to be doing as parents.” It does a young couple good to hear compliments like that when you are in the trenches, especially when you have days where you wonder if any of the teaching is sinking in.
I awoke cranky at 4 am. There was no room in our bed. Charlotte had found her way to our room in the middle of the night, compliments of Eva, who decided to stay and join us also. Tyson was next to me in his bassinet, making all kinds of cooing sounds while fast asleep, and the girls were steadily kicking me in the back, trying to decide which direction to sleep.
I finally got up and went to the living room with a cup of tea. I needed to rethink my mood. Dreams look great on a sunny Friday afternoon with a bowl of mint-chocolate chip ice cream in your hands. This was a cold, rainy January morning if that helps paint a picture of how I felt.
Sitting in silent irritation with only the soft lamplight giving off a glow, I began to gain a new perspective. With my hair going in many unfavorable directions, I realized my husband loved me anyway. I had three little ones piled in our bed because they found comfort in knowing mom and dad were close: Charlotte, the spice of life, Eva with kindness beaming from her eyes, and Tyson, who has the sweetest disposition. And to top it off, my living room was clean. Funny, I couldn’t remember the reason I was mad. That was a mood swing I could live with.
Be quick to hear, slow to speak, and slow to become angry. James 1:19
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