Cam and I are both stubborn.
Surprised by that, aren’t you? Seemingly, Ellie has received both portions of our stubbornness combined into one little package. It doesn’t rear it’s head too often in big doses, but when it does…pshew…stand clear!
Wednesday was one of those days. She woke up with excuses on her tongue of why she didn’t need to go to school. In a chain of events that left me in tears, her strong-willed nature colored the day in an array of colors that I never would have chosen. Cam decided he would stay in and run while I took them to the bus, so I gathered them up and headed out. In a moment of stupidity, I left my phone on the table, thinking
I won’t need it. I’ll be back in 10 minutes. What could happen?
Famous last thought.
We got downstairs and noticed (because the females in our house do not practice observation skills because Cam takes care of those details for us) that it was raining. Wonderful. We were already running a little late because Ellie was crying and didn’t want to get her shoes on…and she wouldn’t pick up her bag…and I wasn’t willing to leave my coffee in order to carry her bag for her…and my other hand was holding the garbage that was fuming onion odors everywhere. In a flash decision, I decided to get back on the elevator, go back to the 7th floor, unlock the door, and get umbrellas. You know…to save my straight hair that I actually blow-dried this time from looking like I went to bed with wet hair (like usual).
I put my key in the door only to realize that when the girls opened the door (remember my full hands and preoccupation with the crying child), they left the key in the keyhole, rendering my efforts to unlock the door ineffective. I rang the bell unceasingly, knowing that Cam couldn’t hear me with his earbuds in and the super loud treadmill going. I left my coffee in the hallway with the heart sinking realization that I was about to have to run through the rain and headed back downstairs.
I grabbed Ellie’s bag and led the little chickies to the bus, with a still-crying Ellie lagging behind. We were late so the bus was waiting ever so patiently for us to get on…it isn’t the first time he had to wait for us and he is so gracious…Gracie got on…Faith got on…Ellie clung to my legs and wouldn’t let go.
I wasn’t going to cry. Yet.
I tried to disengage her from my limbs, but as soon as I got one arm untangled and went to the second, the first was back in a vise grip around my thigh. I did the only thing I knew to do…waved the bus on without her.
I was embarrassed that I couldn’t make my child obey. I was angry that she had the audacity to throw a tantrum like a 2 year old. I was shamed because I know I do the same thing to my Father. I was shown my pride in a glaring way that made me want to pull on my sunshades and hide under an umbrella.
Ellie and I, with her still crying, now because she knew her decision was stupid, headed back to the house to face the obstacle of being locked out. We went upstairs with hopes of Cam being able to hear the doorbell (that we installed and is battery operated, so obviously not very loud). Of course, he didn’t hear. We sat on the steps,me fighting tears, Ellie’s rolling down her cheeks. I picked up my forgotten coffee hoping that maybe that would at least be a diamond in the midst of the morning.
It was cold.
So, we went back downstairs and used the intercom to ring the house. It is loud enough to wake the dead, but we hear it all the time so we are kind of tuned out unless we happen to be in the living room (which he wasn’t). I rang. I told people I had a key and could actually get in when they wanted to help me. I stood there feeling defeated and knowing it was barely 7:30 in the morning and that I had a full day of work ahead. When there was no answer after multiple attempts, we trudged back upstairs. To our great surprise the door was open! Cam had finally heard one of the bells and realized I wasn’t home and came to our rescue. I walked in, saw Cam, and started crying. I let him handle the discipline of our most stubborn child and went to the corner to lick my wounds.
Like any other sugar loving, semi-depressed woman, I chose to medicate myself. I ate a peanut butter brownie with a fresh, hot cup of coffee and tried to redeem the day (it didn’t work, but the brownie was good!). I am happy to say that Ellie now has an extremely clean and organized closet due to her own efforts and a new best friend in my tutor. Apparently her tones are fabulous and she is really great at the little bit of language she knows. I could see that my tutor wanted to ask me why she is so great and I am not. Oh wait. She did ask…