Let It Go!

(Don't worry, I'm not about to write a post about Frozen, although I have been humming that song all day. That's what you get when your six year old gets the DVD for her birthday and you end up downloading the song and playing it on repeat. As a general rule I go for “If you can't beat them, join them.”)

There are days when you have ideas. Plans. Nothing major, because that way lies madness, but just an idea of how the day might go. Like today. It's lovely and sunny for the first time all week, our original plans were cancelled due to friends' illness, and lots of lovely hours to fill with fun. Perfect day, thought I, for a walk to the shops for some salad bits for tea, a play in the garden with the water tray and trampoline and maybe even some bubbles, before meeting with friends in the park after lunch. With that fixed in my mind, I figured it would be as simple as a case of us getting dressed, having breakfast, and then we'd be on our way.

Only it doesn't always work like that. Those wonderful little people who we are allowing to develop at their own pace, and nurturing to be independent, strong-minded individuals? They decided they weren't having any of it.

What is wrong with them? They like going to the shops (especially as sweets can happen) the garden is fun, they've been asking for the water tray all week, and they love going to see friends. From the reaction I received, you'd think I'd suggested throwing all their toys away or eating dog poo.

It's fine, I thought after the first refusal. We can work through this! Accordingly, I rephrased my plans, thinking perhaps they hadn't understood what I was suggesting.

Nope.

Same response from the kids, only this time delivered somewhat more emphatically and leaving me in no doubt as to how they felt about the idea.

Deep breaths time. I could still make this work. But those often helpful techniques of getting down to their level, empathising and trying to talk things through did bugger all. Then I cajoled, begged, insisted, all to no avail. The eldest promptly declared she wasn't going anywhere or doing anything, and hasn't stirred from her bed where she retired with her tablet at 8am this morning. Alfred's response was to dog me with constant requests to build this or that train track, help him with Hama beads, turn his tablet on, and yelling his head off every time I dared leave the room. If I were actually tearing my hair out every time I have felt like doing so today, I would be completely bald by now.

Then, in the midst of all of this, I had one of those Parenting Epiphany Moments. If I were in a cartoon, a great big light bulb or a bubble with “Duh!” inside would be floating above my head. Why on earth was I trying to dictate what happened on a day when we didn't actually have to do anything? There are times when things can't be avoided. Appointments that need to be kept, work and family commitments that can't always be juggled, but today just wasn't one of them. It was, in fact, a lovely blank canvas that could be filled with all sorts of possibilities, if I could only just let go enough to allow them to happen.

What then was more important – forcing everyone to conform to a set of plans just because I thought they might be a good idea, or the three of us working out what would actually work for all of us? With a grumpy, belligerent nearly four year old sat on my lap, I realised that it was the latter.

Post Epiphany Train Track

Why is it so hard to abandon plans when they clearly aren't going to work? So often I grumble about the kids being rigid in their thinking and attitudes, but really I am just as guilty. I love to go to the cinema. And read. And do Zumba. But I don't want to do them all the time. Why then should my children automatically want to do something they've enjoyed in the past, just because I've decided it might be a nice idea now? I'd feel pretty peed off if, for instance, when I really wanted to finish the latest True Blood book I've just got out of the library, someone came along and insisted I go and watch a film instead, even if it was a film I have always enjoyed. Why then would it be any different with the children?

Now it's coming up for lunch time, Elizabeth is stirring, (I can hear her talking to her barbies and singing the aforementioned song under her breath – I can no longer tell who is enabling who in this family!) and Alfred and I are spending a companionable half hour or so snuggled up on the sofa with our respective electronic devices and chatting about crabs. None of us are any the worse for it – in fact, I would argue that we're all a lot happier – the kids for being listened to, and me for not continuing to bang my head against a brick wall.

Did the morning go as I envisaged? Not in the slightest. The plan is still to go to the park to meet friends once we've eaten, and every one is happy with that. The difference is, we'll all go in a good mood, rather than grumpy and resentful after hours of bickering and feeling disconnected beforehand.

And, because of that, I might even end up getting those salad bits on the way home after all.

"Anna and Elsa", By Elizabeth