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Guilt trippin, another round please

2010 January 20
by Pamela

Tonight I was tucking Mary Claire into bed. We always have a daily review of the day; she likes to rehash all the details. If I miss anything, she will remind me. “So this morning we woke up and ate breakfast and then we…” “Wait! What did we have for breakfast?” she’ll ask. Are you kidding me, do you know how many loads of laundry, dirty diapers, errands and Hi-Ho Cherrio games ago breakfast was? But I hunt through my memory or just guess. I think it was waffles, I say. Noooooo it wasn’t. We ate Frosted Shredded Wheat, bite sized. That’s what she calls it; the bite sized is especially important to remember since I once made the mistake of buying Frosted Shredded Wheat, The Size of a Newborn’s Head and never heard the end of it.

So I get to the part where we had a little incident involving Mary Claire, Elizabeth AND Sam-the-dog starting WWIII over who got to eat the last few bites of a frozen waffle that was still frozen (Sam won, by the way). Mary Claire said that there were a few things that I did today that she didn’t like. She especially didn’t like when I yelled at her about hitting Elizabeth over the head with the wicker coffee table tray over three bites of a frozen waffle that was still frozen (yes, I’m still floored by that part of the story).

This is the third time she’s chastised me for yelling now and how it makes her feel so sad. This kind of breaks my heart, but it also irritates me to no end. It breaks my heart because God may convict me otherwise, but I do not think I yell at all. So she is either guilt-tripping me so she can stay up later and discuss how I can do better OR she really perceives that I’m yelling. I think the latter may be the case.

So this week I’m going to work on intentionally lowering my voice during any crisis, frustration, or bit of impatience hits.

And not serving frozen waffles.

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