Never underestimate the value of kindness.

Never underestimate the value of kindness.

“Dad is a lot nicer than you!”

I knew it was coming. It’s been a good month for the girls and I. We had a lovely vacation. The girls spent a few weekends with their dad. Time at home has been generally upbeat (in spite of Bee’s sudden recurrence of chronic whining). Lots of patience and laughter and unicorns and sparkles. So something like that was bound to come flying out eventually.

It happened just after breakfast this morning, when I dispatched the girls to brush their hair and their teeth. Last night I had asked the girls to brush their teeth in my bathroom instead of over the sink of gurlgling, blub-blub-blubbing Drano in their bathroom. It was such a luxurious experience, Gracie thought she would repeat it this morning. And I broke one of my golden rules of parenting: I said “no” for no good reason. And once I said it, I had to stick to my guns so I wouldn’t be viewed as wishy-washy. Gracie didn’t want to hear it, apparently.

“Dad is a lot nicer than you!”

It hurt my feelings. I knew she was just mad because she hadn’t gotten her way, but I didn’t want her to think being sassy – especially with that sentiment – was okay. “That was kinda mean, Gracie,” I told her, firmly but not unkindly. “It makes me sad when you say things like that.” She tried arguing her case but I cut her off both times, insisting she go brush her teeth in her bathroom like I’d asked.

I ignored Bee’s sudden interest in why her sister was in trouble while my inevitable inner-monologue geared up. I know the Ex  likes to be the fun parent since he gets to see the girls so little. I know he has a different, more laid-back parenting style. He prefers to clean up after the girls rather than enforce rules and he likes to spend money and say yes. He’s not extravagant, just more so than I am. Someone needs to teach the girls life lessons and rules and consistency; I’m doing a good job. I know it – don’t worry. But what I do worry about is that the Ex might be genuinely nicer than me. Okay, no, that’s a lie. Not nicer – he might be more patient than I am with the girls.

“Dad is a lot nicer than you!”

What if what Gracie meant was that her dad wouldn’t have had that slight edge to his voice? That he would have gently redirected (if at all) her to her room with a flourish (and unicorns and sparkles)? That he wouldn’t yell as often as I do or get frustrated as quickly or raise his voice so sharply? Not that all of these things happened this morning, mind you, but you how the What If? game goes.

I quickly sent my self-doubt packing. I’m a great mom. I don’t always keep my cool, but my own mom kept her cool a little better than she maybe should have and I love her to pieces. So I smartly let it go. But not Gracie’s comment. I waited until we were all in car, driving to daycare. I turned down the radio for a minute and I calmly told her: “Gracie, I do a lot of nice things for you. I changed your order slip and let you order Highlights this morning, even though it costs a lot of money, and I baked you a lemon pie when you started school. It hurts my feelings when you tell me I’m not nice and compare me to your father.” She didn’t say anything and I didn’t push the issue. I just turned the volume back up. Gracie was quiet and pensive the rest of the way to school.

She wouldn’t look at me when we got there. She sat quietly in her seat when I parked instead of bounding out of the car. This morning it was Bee who ran ahead and when I waited up for Gracie and held out my hand to her, she shouldered her backpack and said, “I got it.” Still, my temper didn’t flare and my annoyance stayed far, far away. I walked the girls in like everything was normal, gave them hugs and kisses and wished them a good day. I started to walk out, then opened the classroom door again. “Psst! Gracie!” I stage-whispered to her. She didn’t hear me even though she was about a foot away. I reached out and tapped her arm and she turned to me, surprised. “I love you!” Big, knowing smiles. “I love you, too, Mom.” And it was Gracie who waited at the window to make silly faces at me.

That’s how I know. That’s how a mama knows a lot of things.

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Tags: children, parenting