Chapter Two
Impatience is a useful flaw to have when it results in
getting things done efficiently in life. It’s a frustrating flaw when the whole
world seems to spin at a pace like molasses compared to yours when you are
eager for change. I’m in one of my infuriating waiting periods. Two more weeks
until Stephen’s vasectomy reversal surgery…two more months until possible
fertility is re-established…six more months until our rental house will likely
be sold (this represents a financial accomplishment to allow me to retire from
my current career)…and probably six more months until a “work from home”
position is available for me to transition too…thirty more minutes until I
have to facilitate another meeting at the office when I just want to get it
over with. Feeling impatient brings with it an oppressive feeling of being
trapped, stuck, helpless, inert, and energetically dead. More than anything,
when I’ve made a major life decision like having a baby or changing my career,
I resent the gentle transition time that others seem to crave. Jump or go home!
Of course, this causes me more suffering than my patient counterparts.
Interestingly, I do not experience this kind of impatience with regard to my children so
far. Somehow, mothering calms my rush and brings me into the present. It happened
with Eva this morning.
One thing about a sixth grade girl is that whether her
clothing style is grungy or polished, the style itself cannot be tampered with.
Eva’s commitment to her black yoga pants is beyond my comprehension. Apparently
she no longer owns enough of them for our frequent laundry rotation, so she was
pantless getting ready for school this morning. Before I was made aware of the
issue, I was wallowing in frustration about waiting for upcoming changes in my
life. I was lamenting about whether to skip the office today to extend the
wallowing. I was feeling paralyzed under the weight of my own impatience. I
walked the dog in a huff and when I returned Stephen was helping Eva start a
load of laundry. There she was in her nightgown when she normally would have
been dressed and making her lunch, having already eaten her breakfast. She was
eager to explain that she had it all worked out to wash her pants this morning
given an extra half hour to get ready, get more pants this weekend, and that we
would just have to skip our walk to school/work this morning and drive instead.
Now, let me explain that the underlying issue is procrastination. I have been
prompting her for over a month to clean out her drawers so she knows what she
has, what she needs, and can actually close the overstuffed drawers. Each time
I’ve offered to assist she has cheerfully said, “Now isn’t a good time. I’ll do
it later.”
I really needed that long walk this morning. I might have
felt angry. Instead that very serious motherly calm descended upon me, and
clarity came with it. I needed to shut up whining about my need for immediate
gratification in life and get on with the business of being a mother. I didn’t
need to think this thought, rather it just washed over me. That’s the magic of
mothering. When your kid has a need, there is an automatic switch that allow
you to put your needs aside and deal.
And she needed me alright. I know she needed me because she
had the nerve to ask me if she could first (before finally cleaning and taking
inventory of her clothes) use my laptop to watch an anime that she has recently
had the privilege of spending 30 minutes per weekday watching after all other
responsibilities are met. You see, our household has been television free since
well before she was born, so this use of my laptop is a unique pleasure for her
to savor. I calmly asked her what she
thinks she should do. What would make sense to her, given the consequences of
her procrastination of this task with her dresser drawers? I could tell she was
almost immediately embarrassed to have asked. Almost immediately she made the
connection between her laziness and our inability to enjoy our morning walk
together, which she knows I value. She went on to cry behind her bedroom door
while tackling the chore at hand. I had to refrain from going in to try to
either comfort her or justify my position. Mothers are programmed to respond to
the cry of a child, but she’s growing up and learning to cope with stress so I
held off.
When she was finished she still had another half hour until
her pants were dry, so she hinted AGAIN at whether she was allowed to indulge
in her anime (translation for those still mentally living in the 80’s: watch a
cartoon!). I decided I need to be more explicit so explained procrastination,
and I told her that when she finds herself with free time she could consider
doing something that would improve her mind and spirit (read, study, meditate,
journal) her physical health (yoga, take a walk, dance) or her environment (organize
her desk, sweep her floor, wipe up her bathroom). I claimed that anime does
none of those things, but I wondered if that’s really true. Do I improve my
mental health when I watch a funny film that I enjoy? Probably. Nevertheless, I
was in the authoritative position here, and I needed to make her think twice
about procrastinating a basic responsibility next time. Her remorse was
satisfactory in the end, and I still managed to send her into the schoolyard
with a loving kiss and wish for a fantastic day. I think we need to always
remember to deal swiftly with the issue at hand, forgive just as swiftly, and
move on with love and grace. This models what we hope our children adopt as
their inner voice: “Oh shit, I fucked up. What can I do immediately to either
repair the damage or express my regret to anyone affected by my mistake? Do it.
Then…forgive myself and move on! With a light heart and an appreciation for
being human.”
And do you know what happened when my responsibility as
Eva’s mother this morning was completed? I pummeled back into a feeling of
despondency about the two things I cannot get immediate gratification on right
now: 1) making a huge shift from my career and 2) being pregnant. So I dragged
myself into the office and did a fine job. Now I’m having a beer to celebrate
that accomplishment. Ta da!
