Notes from the Non-Traditional

Lately I’ve been contemplating the value of the moments in my day. I’m talking about split second moments of time. The ones that freeze while you consider the emotional reaction you’ll have to obstacles in your way.

I remember a particularly stressful evening at the end of last semester when I was studying for my last final exam. My 4-year-old daughter Zoie bounded into the living room, looked up at me in a panic and said, “I’m sorry, Mom.”

A look of terror seized her eyes. She winced, then elephant-sized tears ran down her cheeks and pee ran all over the floor.

In that moment I had a million thoughts, the primary one being,

“Dude, she just peed on the carpet.”

This was accompanied by a series of emotions I can only describe as: anger, frustration, exasperation and resentment. I was angry because she didn’t make it to the bathroom and soiled the carpet. I was frustrated because I would have to stop studying for my last final exam to clean it up and give her a bath. I was exasperated because I already felt overwhelmed. I was resentful because I wished someone could help me with the kids and no one was there.

At the same time, I felt concern, worry, sadness, love and guilt. I was concerned for Zoie because she never has accidents and I worried something might be wrong. I felt sad because her eyes told me she was deeply ashamed of what she had done. I felt love because I wanted to take her hurt away and see her smile again. Lastly, I felt guilt because I was so angry she peed on the carpet and I wanted to scream at her.

In that split second, I had to decide what action to take next. I could scold her, tell her she did something bad and send her to the bathroom while I cleaned it up. Or, I could discern the reason for her accident, clean her up, then attend to the mess on the carpet. Either way, I lost valuable study time for my most important final exam the next day.

As calmly as I could manage, I said, “Zoie, why did you pee on the carpet?”

She looked at me through her tears and said, “I didn’t know I had to pee, Mom. It just happened, I promise.”

I maneuvered away from my study materials and picked up my baby. Then I carried her upstairs, undressed her and gave her a shower.

“Zoie, next time, when you’re outside playing you need to stop and go to the bathroom every once in a while so this doesn’t happen again, ok?” I told her as I toweled the water out of her eyes and then lifted her from the tub.

“Ok, Mommy,” she whimpered. “I will. I’m sad that I peed, I’m sorry.”

She then cautiously reached up to grab my lotion container. “I wish I could smell pretty like you, Mom. Can you put this on me so I can smell pretty when I go to sleep?”

I took the bottle from her tiny, delicate fingers and squeezed some lotion onto my palm. I rubbed it all over Zoie’s hands, arms and legs, and then let her rub the rest on her tummy. The shame in her eyes instantly transformed into the joyful and innocent light that normally radiates from her. My love for her helped ease the anxiety I felt over all the studying I had to do.
After bath time, I tucked Zoie and Jaiden into bed, grabbed Mr. Bear off the top bunk and made it sing, “You Are my Sunshine.” The kids giggled and sang as they clapped their hands and bounced with their favorite stuffed animal.

I gave them a series of kisses we made up, including the fish kiss, the cheek kiss, the eyeball kiss, the old-man kiss and the human kiss. Then we shared a zebra hug and a human hug, and then it was time to blow out the light.

I stood at their door with my finger on the switch and counted down from three. When I got to one, Jaiden and Zoie blew as hard as they could and I turned out the light.

I made them promise to go to sleep because I had to study for a very important test tomorrow.  Then I returned to my studies refreshed and happy, with no traces of the anxiety that plagued me before.

In that tiny frozen fragment of time when I chose how to react to Zoie’s accident, I did my best to make a decision that would result in the optimal health and well being of my daughter.

There are days I lack patience and would have scolded Zoie for what she did out of anger and frustration. Those feelings would have plagued me for the rest of the evening.

Over the years, I’ve grown to appreciate the power of choices. I’ve learned how they add up to shape our character and determine how we handle life. Getting an A on my test means less to me than filling my daughter with love and confidence. I know a day will come when she won’t admit she wants to smell my lotion on her hands when she goes to sleep. I know that singing stuffed animals and playtime kisses are a blessing a parent only gets to enjoy for a few precious moments of their children’s lives.

I believe that when life gets overwhelming, or we get stressed out and run down, it’s because we forget how to appreciate our moments. In times like this, when I feel completely overwhelmed, I try to remember to cherish mine. 

Shannon Morgan

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