<stricken look from Rockstar>
“What – no. Noo!!! NOOO!!!!!! You did NOT drop my (Pandora) charm in there!! I TOLD you to b CAREFUL!!! This is y I NEVER let you touch those near where you can drop them and I cant get them out!!!!”
Rockstar falls face first on the bed and buries his face in the “ostrich” position. That’s his posture when he accepts he’s done something wrong and feels bad about it and scared i’m really angry. He’s been wanting to play with my charms near that crevice in our built-in super-heavy platform bed despite my explaining repeatedly he can play with my bracelet anywhere else but there in case he drops it.
“I won’t, mum,” he promised. He just did. It’d been driving him crazy when I messed with the bracelet on the bed when he came into the room and he couldn’t touch them.
I’d been cooking for a few hours before that- I hurt my back more than a week ago, carrying him and my large handbag a couple blocks after cell group one night as he slept. It was finally recovering, he refused a seatbelt on the way home earlier today, resulting in a long struggle that sent my back all the way back to square one.
5 minutes.
<thinking> it’s a hkd 350 bead. It could’ve been a lot worse, it could’ve been the gold ones with diamonds or sapphires. It could’ve been one of those bought outside Hong Kong by a loved one that I could never replace. It could’ve been the whole bloody bracelet.
So freaking what?
Is there anything he could possibly do, especially at this age, that could warrant me losing control and screaming at him?
To scream or not to scream should have been a parenting choice. Not something I did simply because I was angry and just lost it.
I’m so ashamed.
To get me to stop feeling sorry for myself over some bullying in the office, a former mentor once remarked, “There aren’t enough rocks in your tank.” It’s a reference to how you can always fit the tiny pebbles in, in between the large rocks, if you put the rocks first.
But if you were to put the pebbles first…….
I move over and give my still ostrich-postured son a hug. “I’m sorry. Mum was already in a bad mood because of her back pain. But most importantly I shouldn’t get so angry when what you did was an accident.”
“Wow, you screamed SO LOUD, mum!”
William (and Rockstar) to the rescue:
We worked out how to get the charm out – with Rockstar’s crazy straws and tape
Ta-daaaa.
I remember the time my brother and I were rough-housing with our mom at some sort of summer camp-type place, even though she told us to stop. And we somehow got the diamond engagement ring — which she’d had for a decade, which my father had bought despite being poor — to fall off her finger, through a wooden deck into the mud / dirt below.
Yeah, we got in trouble. But she was cool about it. She called over one of the staff and they miraculously found it.
BTW, when I click over here from my blogroll, I get an error — something about your RSS feed. But when I type in the URL fresh, it works.