Last week, I was sitting at the kitchen table doing homework with my son. My son is a smart kid, and he normally finishes his homework with ease. But that night it was a struggle. He was whining, crying, falling off his chair and just being obstinate! It was driving me crazy, especially because he was working on something I knew he knew. The question was "What number comes before 11?" and he just refused to answer.
I tried many methods to get him to answer; he counted on his fingers, objects, we wrote the numbers down. We even revisited the concept of before and after. But he refused to answer the question. He cried, I raised my voice, got flustered, put him on time out. Nothing was working. Finally I told him I needed a break and sent him to his room while I finished preparing dinner.
When my son sat down to eat, I apologized to him. I told him I was sorry for raising my voice and losing my cool. I explained to him that I knew he knew the right answer and I was frustrated that he was not giving his best effort. I told him in the future Mommy would take a time out when she got frustrated. My son smiled at me and walked over to hug me. He finished his homework with ease and I felt like I was able to turn a negative into a positive. Gold star for mommy!
The next day I was telling this story to a couple of my girlfriends. I was at the part where I was frustrated with my son because I knew he knew the answer and just didn't want to complete the problem. My friend Joanne says:
"Kind of like that book report you refused to do when you were a kid?"
I froze for a second, trying to think of a witty comeback, but there was none. Joanne was right. Mark this day on your calendar, I was both speechless and got called out on my own dirt!
Rewind back to 1980 something. I have a book report due on
George Washington Carver. I didn't want to do it and no one was going to make me do it. My teacher had conferences with my mom, I wouldn't do it. I got spanked (it was the 80's, you could do that), still wouldn't do it. It got to the point where my mother had completely gotten fed up with me, and threatened that she would take me to the children's home if I didn't do the report (it was the 80's, you could do that). I got my suitcase and started packing, tears falling. I still wasn't doing that damn report. At that moment my brother calls. My mom tells him what is happening and I get on the phone. He tells me mama isn't taking me anywhere, she tried it with him and amazingly he's still around.
I never did that report, and to this day I can't tell you why. And now my son pulling the same stunt on me, using my own stubbornness against me. Karma is a mother!