 It's hard to admit when I'm wrong because I'm the all-powerful mom,
the one who's always right. That kind of power tends to go to one's
head sometimes. However, when I have done something wrong, I always
apologize, no matter how difficult, because that is how I want my
kids to conduct themselves.They know that an apology can
sometimes spare them from harsher consequences. It's much easier to
say "I'm sorry" than to spend a day in their room or be banned from
some fun event.
Once these same children grow up and become adults, however, they
don't have to pay those kinds of consequences if their apology is
not forthcoming. If they have done something for which they need to
apologize to a parent, it takes an act of God for most of them to
accept the fact and act on it.
My oldest son and I share the same stubborn streak. It's rare
that we disagree, but it happens. When it does, we can usually come
to an understanding without any bloodshed.
He is a good writer, though, and has been known to slay lesser
creatures with a flourish of his pen. Fortunately, he's never honed
his skills on me... until last week.
A boiling cauldron of a bad cold, a bad mood, a bad week at work
and a bad attitude rendered him unable to stem a flow of words that
he knew would hurt me.
At first, the clichéd words popped into my head: "And after all
I've done for him!" Then, a fast-paced movie of my life with this
child of mine (who is now a 28-year-old man) raced through my mind.
I realized, he has not changed all that much. The only difference is
that he shaves and has a job now... and I can't send him to his room
anymore.
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 I remember when he was a kid, he could talk to me about anything.
I always gave him the chance to tell me the things that were
bothering him by taking him out for ice cream, just the two of us.
Each of my kids has always been given that opportunity on a pretty
regular basis. We believe that ice cream is a tongue lubricant.
Whatever he may think about me now, it's not always clear. One
might think he has made it perfectly clear with his pen, but I
thought I knew him better than that.
It took him two days to come to the realization that he had
screwed up. One never looks forward to eating crow. He may even have
tried to rationalize how it might possibly be my fault... or at
least, not his fault.
However, like I have many times before, he eventually came to the
conclusion that he owed me a major apology. Though he lives over an
hour away, he made a point to come to my house to "make things
right."
Stubborn as I am, I wanted him to grovel a little. I didn't want
him to get off too easy, because then we might have a repeat of that
awful week.
When he arrived at my doorstep, pale, with his shoulders hunched
and hands in his pockets, I said nothing. I glared at him with
red-rimmed eyes and dared him to say the wrong thing. The wrong
thing would be anything except "I'm sorry"... or so I thought.
After clearing his throat, he looked at me, eyes pleading for
understanding, and said "Want to go get some ice cream?"
As it turned out, I did, indeed, want to go get some ice cream.
[By LAURA SNYDER]
Laura Snyder is a nationally syndicated columnist,
author and speaker. You can reach her at
lsnyder@lauraonlife.com
or visit www.lauraonlife.com
for more info. |
