Don’t run with scissors. We’ve all heard that. And, as parents, perhaps a few of us have even said that.
Unfortunately, there are many other things you shouldn't do with scissors. You shouldn’t assume that, despite your warnings, scissors that are left unattended will stay unattended or unused. Lastly, you shouldn’t assume that your seven-year-old understands all the scissor rules.
I spent the day at work on Saturday to make up for missing a day during the week. Just as I was about to leave, I got a text from home. Isabelle had a little friend over for the day; however, instead of writing stories, jumping in piles of leaves, and singing Hannah Montana songs, they decided to become hair stylists.
They didn't choose to practice on each other. I guess I should really be thankful for that, given there were scissors involved. The two hair styling victims were Iz’s dolls.
It wouldn’t have been too bad, except one of the dolls was the American Girl doll, Julie, who cost Santa Clause $125 last year. It was especially an “ouch,” because Santa was unemployed last year but decided to buy the expensive doll. Santa also assumed Iz was old enough to understand it was an expensive doll and that she would take good care of it.
Anyway, I was told that two dolls (Julie included) were now sporting bobs thanks to Iz and her friend. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Thank goodness, I was the only one at work, because I said a few cuss words, too.
I was upset. I was disappointed. And, I needed to drive around a bit before I headed home, so I went grocery shopping.
As a parent, love comes easy. The difficult part is being upset, especially when you’re upset with your kids. I had been challenged recently in that area with Nathan; he got into his first car accident.
No one was hurt, but I was upset given that Big Red was ruined, Nathan would have to pay tickets, and he’d lose his license for 60 days. Nathan was extremely upset, and the accident was just an accident. In the end, I decided that I could not be upset with Nathan; I could be disappointed, but it wouldn’t be disappointment I would share with Nathan, and, instead, I had to give Nathan support.
After I left the supermarket pondering what to say to Iz, I realized that my tact with Nathan had worked well. Well, I didn’t have to come down on Nathan; the State of Massachusetts was going to do that. This proved to be a wise move, because Nathan beat himself up so much that my support became the ace bandage that let him heal quicker than my disappointment would have.
When I got home, Iz was not there. She went off with John to drop off her friend. I got a text message shortly after I arrived home telling me that Iz was “terrified” to face me.
I don’t know why she was terrified. I certainly had been angry before, but I was never one to go all “Wire hangers,” well, not where it concerned dolls but maybe where it concerned clothes! Anyway, I eventually heard the front door open and her walk in.
There were no words. I only heard sobs. I got up from the couch and peered down the hallway. She saw me and immediately curled up into a little ball while standing (a kids' “I’m in trouble” yoga move for sure or a move that should be in Karate Kid 4) and sobbed harder.
I said, “Iz, come here.” She sobbed harder and became an even tighter ball. I said, “Iz, please come in here,” in my softest and gentlest voice.
She walked down the hallway, entered the family room, and threw herself on the couch, still sobbing. I knew there was no talking to her until she calmed down. Sometimes I dislike it when I sounded like my mother, but sometimes I realize she taught me many good things, especially in regard to hysterical crying.
I said, “Iz, take a deep breath.” In that moment, I once again remembered being young, sobbing hysterically, and having my Mom say the same thing to me. I rubbed Iz’s back and said again, “Take a deep breath.”
In a few minutes, she was still upset, but she was not gasping for air. I said, “Iz, I need to talk to you about what happened.” Then she immediately said, prepped by her lawyer, her Dad, “Mom, I’m sorry. I made a bad decision.
She started to sob again. I said, “Iz, I am disappointed, but it’s not really about the doll’s hair. It’s that you did something without asking first.” She asked in sobs, “So, I’m-I’m-I’m grounded?!”
For whatever reason, Iz is big on being “grounded.” Well, she doesn’t want to be grounded; however, whenever she gets into a bit of trouble, she immediately assumes it’s the punishment. And, how does one “ground” a 7-year-old anyway?
It’s not like I can take the car keys from her, stop her from going out with her friends, or prevent her from going on Facebook. Some trying days, grounding Iz is the furthest thing from my mind. On those “some days,” I hoped an Aunt, an Uncle, a Godmother, or a friend wanted to take her far, far away from me for a day!
I explained to her that she needed to ask for permission before she did things. She asked, as if I was crazy, “Like if I want to go to the bathroom?!?!?” I said, “No!”
I told her that big decisions like taking scissors, when she knew she shouldn’t, were something she needed to ask about. I told her that cutting her doll’s hair was yet another big decision that she needed to ask about. She said, “Well, Santa gave her to me!”as if Santa gave her a free reign for hair chopping terror.
I tried to explain that while Santa had given her the doll, Mom and Dad were responsible for the care of the doll. I then reiterated that the hair wasn’t the issue. It was that she had made big decisions without asking first; I told her that my biggest concern was that she’d make a bad decision and end up hurting herself.
I then told her that as punishment her friend wouldn’t be allowed over for a month. Iz got hysterical. She then ran up to her room.
I sighed. I figured she was only 7. How many more years did I have to talk about this same issue with her yet at a different age?
I went up to her room and tried to coax her out. She told me she was staying put until Sunday. In 30 minutes, I heard mumblings in her room; it was Nathan voice saying, “Go downstairs, Iz.”
She came downstairs and said, “Momma, can I help you make dinner?” I laughed but not out loud; I laughed to myself, because my girl knew she made a bad decision. I was upset and loved her, and she knew she could try to right a wrong by taking a left and trying to help me make dinner right.
After she went to bed, I found a card on my desk. It said, “I love you with all my heart. And you are the best Mom a chid coald have. Any one cane love you; anyone wolad wish that they had a Mom like you. Love your Dather.” To the right, there was a heart and in it were the names “Nathan, Liam, Monty, and Brenda.”
Tonight, I had to pick up Nathan up at his Dad’s, bring him home to get his cleats, and then drop him back off for a night game. As we drove to his final destination, he said, “Gawd, I so wish that accident hadn't happened. I hate not having a car.” I said, “It’s a minor setback. Everything will be okay in a few months.” We then exchanged witty banter and barbs about our musical tastes.
Parenting is tough. I’m so glad I have my Mom to fall back on every now and then even though she isn’t here. And, it’s always nice to know that even after a tough time, your child still loves you even if you’ve had to go along with what the referee says or hand out the penalty yourself. ♥
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