When I’m Wrong, I Say I’m Wrong

Wow, do I owe my kid an apology.

This morning I was in the midst of our usual harried morning hell trying to get four of us out the door to work or school, and Maya was dilly-dallying in her room, taking her sweet old time putting her socks on.

This is not a complicated task; it’s something she’s been doing every day since she was TWO.

And she was taking for-freaking-ever.

I had been yelling raising my voice at her to hurry for at least ten minutes and, surprise, surprise … in spite of escalating, I was getting nowhere. You see, **rationally** I know yelling absolves nothing and only increases my blood pressure … but let’s be honest … I’m an irrational person and sometimes it’s my only defense when I’m feeling positively helpless, like I was in that momen!

Between a sick husband who was already running late (thereby making ME late), the two-year-old human spider monkey  sitting on my hip unwilling to let go for a nanosecond (lest I brush my teeth or fix my hair alone!), and a dog barking at squirrels outside, I was about to lose it.


She came downstairs, fully dressed, in her socks and sneakers  and stared at me with that, “SEE?????” look I expect of a fourteen-year-old, not a five-year-old. (Fortunately I haven’t gotten an eye roll yet although I am sure that’s coming …)

“What took you so long, dear GAWD, honey?!!” I asked.

She just shrugged, and asked for some milk.

Thorough gritted teeth, I poured her some milk, convinced Ben to use the potty one.more.time before he left, and went back to my hair while Luis got dressed.

I tried to tell myself over and over that yes, mornings are hellacious now … but they won’t be this difficult forever. (A reminder from this awesome article I read recently).

A hug, a kiss, an Eskimo kiss, and they were on their merry way.

As I went to leave for work a few  minutes later, I peeked into her room, and this is what I saw.


Bless her little pre-K heart.

All of her socks had been sorted, matched, and neatly rolled together in one basket, and all her shoes were in another.

She’d been **organizing**, not dilly-dallying, all that time!

I felt awful. I always feel bad after yelling at my kids, but especially this time. This time, she was actually doing something really, really good. ❤

Let’s just say, this mama owes her a big apology when she gets home from school.

How about you? Have you had an similar instances with your own kids, where you were mad at them for not doing what you wanted them to be doing, but they surprised you with something really awesome?


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