Yesterday, I found myself utterly calm and positive. WTF? Easygoing and blissed-out. That was me. You know how it takes forever to get your kids from point A to point B, and you end up not wanting to go anywhere because leaving is always a struggle? After hanging out at the playground for awhile I did the whole leaving-soon-five-more-minutes routine, but then I just kind of dropped it becasue really, what was I rushing off for? I sat. I watched the other kids. I talked to parents. I made plans with girl friends to go to Cisco’s Cantina in Kailua, where they better not have crappy wine.
When I suggested we leave, my daughter said okay. It was a totally smooth and successful departure. I love those. You never know what you’re going to get. We went swimming next and I didn’t rush her out of the pool. After, I let her play in the bath until her toes were shriveled. That night when she got up from the dinner table I didn’t tell her to sit back down, nor did I make desert threats. She came back to the table eventually, finished, had ice cream with a free refill. At bedtime when she came out of her room, trying to make us laugh with a puppet, I laughed instead of marching her back to her room. She was funny! I walked her back to her room and hung out for awhile even though it’s not “the routine” to do so.
It was a good day, a good night, all because I relaxed. She became easier when I became easier and I guess I need to remember that sometimes. My husband, I think, makes things harder on himself. Sets up too many rules for her to break. I told him we needed to make like hippies and relax. It’s all good. Groovy man.
But then we turned the television to CNN where we watched something about Elizabeth Hasselbeck, the worst chick ever (I should add her to my bitch slap list), and my grooviness dissipated. Goodbye zen calm. Goodbye warm thoughts. Oh well. Hippies suck. Go to bed.
I said, get to bed right now.