It seems like just yesterday that Kiera started walking. She was taking those cute, little, off-balance steps. I also remember when she was old enough to begin to “help” us. You know the kind of help I am talking about.
It was the kind of help like when you would see a piece of paper on the floor and ask your new helper to pick it up. They were always so agreeable. It was a huge task for them at that point in their lives.
I can still see it in my mind. “Kiera, can you pick up that piece of paper and throw it in the trash?” I asked pointing out said paper.
She would hurry over to the paper, pick it up and show it to me with a huge grin on her face and then proceed to take it to the trashcan. At that point, I would get another huge smile as I thanked her for being a big girl.
After a time, your helper begins to grow up and realize that the task that you are asking them to perform is not as big of a deal as they used to think it was. You learn that as a parent, if you want it done, you tell them to do it.
Now instead of asking, it is more like, “Please pick up that piece of paper and throw it in the trash.”
Once that task is achieved, you thank them and sometimes still get a smile in return.Every now and then I forget and slip up. Somehow, I forget that I have an opinionated child who sometimes likes to make her own decisions, no matter how much Mommy may smile and applaud her.
Tonight was a prime example. Aaron had cooked dinner while Grandmommy, Kiera and I went for a swim. After he pronounced that dinner was served, we hustled out of the pool and into dry clothes to make our plates.
Kiera came in the kitchen to get her plate. As she walked in, she and I both noticed a peppermint candy wrapper on the floor. She knelt down for a closer look, realized what it was, stood back up and headed for her plate.
“Honey, can you pick that up and throw it in the trash?” I asked as I begin making Aaron’s plate.
She picked her plate up off the bar, glanced at me with tired eyes and said politely, “No. I don’t really want to.” Without missing a beat, she continued into the living room to eat her dinner.
I watched her leave the kitchen and realized that I couldn’t get on to her. I had asked and she had responded. Now, it was not the response I wanted but I couldn’t fault her for her answer.
I bent down, picked up the wrapper and threw it in the trash, quietly applauding my own accomplishment. It doesn’t really feel the same as when someone else is applauding you. But, in all honesty, if I had asked Aaron or my mom to come applaud me as I threw a wrapper in the trash, well, let’s just say there would not have been any applause on their end and I am confident there would have been some laughter.
For now, I will just have to remember to phrase my requests a little differently and maybe work on getting my own cheering squad.
Rowonna McNeely is a graphic artist for Willie’s T’s Screenprint & Embroidery. She is a mother of a five-year-old girl and step mother of two adult girls. Her crazy life includes a dog, Sloane and psychotic cat, Gracie. Both females. She is married to her prince, who is outnumbered by the opposite gender.
