First using his fingers to create horns on his head, he then pantomimes swinging a devil tail and he then points at me—The Evil Mother.
I am not evil, but rather—not perfect. I feel imperfection is the hallmark of my parenting styling. The saintly mother, the knowledgeable mother, the good mother, the PERFECT mother just have too tough a job. Because mistakes will happen…miscalculations, misunderstandings….how can you survive with that type of pressure.
My theory is sometimes you try and succeed and sometimes you fail. If I never pushed, the child would still be clinging to the railing at the top of water slide rather than rushing on to the next Pirate’s Plunge waterslide with a giddy triumphant smile plastered on her 9 year old face.
Sometimes the pushing IS too much. I try not to take it personally when she pushes back because usually The Child is right.
So on this day I stand there patting my daughter’s back as she hugs me in angry exhaustion after being overwhelmed by a day that was far too packed with activities….activities that I thrust upon her.
The Beast cannot see her father’s one man show—that is only for my benefit. Because, really, what is marriage for— if not for deeply moving moments like these when you can truly relish your partner’s failure.
The Beast forgives her imperfect mother. I think that is what is key. To forgive the mistakes and realize the thought behind the action. Realizing the man’s thoughts—I reach out and swat at him and tell him to do something constructive like get tissues and make coffee
