Family column

Here's my family column for GateHouse this weekend. Enjoy!
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Abby was finishing her breakfast the other day when she asked, “Mom, do you have some kind of disease that always puts you in a bad mood?”

I stopped in my rush to get ready for work, one shoe on and hairbrush in hand.

“Well,” I said. “I have been kind of stressed out lately, but I don’t think I’m always in a bad mood.”

Abby considered this. “Oh,” she said. “I guess it’s more of a temperament thing.”

“Temperament?” I asked.

“Yeah, you know,” she continued, “like Rottweilers are aggressive. Temperament. They can’t help it. It’s just the way they are.”

I’m not sure which made me feel worse: that my fourth-grader thinks I’m always in a bad mood, or that she compared me to an aggressive dog.

I spent much of the next day ruminating on Abby’s comment. Am I really that grouchy? I certainly have my ups and downs, but overall, things are pretty good. Why would she think I’m always in a bad mood?

Since school started a couple of months ago, we’ve been on a pretty tight schedule. I began a new job, too, so I’m out the door before the kids are some mornings. Evenings are for dinner, homework, showers and bedtime. Even the weekends are busy, with soccer for the boys, a theatre class for Abby, church, chores, and everything else that doesn’t get done during the week.

As I thought about it, I realized that most of the time we’re together, I’m telling Abby to do something. Finish breakfast, get ready for school, start your homework – all geared toward keeping the day running smoothly, staying on schedule and on task. And, I admit, when people aren’t moving quickly enough for me, whether it’s in traffic or in my home, I get irate.

Abby, by contrast, never hurries. She marches to her own beat, and her tempo is considerably slower than mine. I’m constantly trying to move her along at my speed. No wonder the poor kid thinks I’m always in a bad mood. I am.

I’m at a loss about how to improve the situation. My typical strategy is to analyze, categorize, organize and schedule a problem into submission. It’s not the best approach, though, when scheduling is actually the problem.

Maybe I just need to work on my patience. Lighten up a little, stop and smell the roses, let Abby get things done in her own timeframe.

Next time I’m feeling impatient with Abby, I’ll try counting to 10. Well, no, that takes too long; maybe to 5. Then I’ll take a few deep breaths – I think I can squeeze in three.

Patience is a virtue, but it takes so darned long to develop.

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