The Calm After the Storm

Hell hath no Fury like a child resisting a hair wash.  While attempting to just go ahead and “do the dump,” I reached the end of my already-frayed rope.  I snapped.  Then I yelled.  Then Dave sent me upstairs and I viciously deflated a Dora the Explorer helium balloon, which had freaked me out for the last time with its child-like size and height in relation to the floor (it was already somewhat deflated).   

Then I came downstairs for some tea, and Ellen asked me to read her bedtime story.  When we were done and the lights were turned off, her wet head (which Dave finally succeeded in washing) rested on her pillow, and she grabbed my finger while I sang the Number One hit on the Bedtime Chart (“Once upon a Dream” from Sleeping Beauty). 

Then I kissed her goodnight and tried to pry my finger away, but she just squeezed it tighter and pulled me closer.  So I lay my own head between hers and that of her stuffed bear, Melissa, and stroked her soft hand with my thumb. 

Then she said to me (her maniacal, hair-washing mother, who ten minutes earlier became so upset that she attacked a Latina made of Mylar): “You’re the best mom in the whole world.” 

Then I was reminded that children teach us a great deal more than we teach them.  They need our guidance while learning how to function in this world, but more importantly, we need their wisdom about what it means to be human, and how to live with gratitude and simplicity.  If we can’t master those fundamentals, none of us will function very well in this world anyway. 

And then, I started crying.