10 dec 2005
Grace in the Garage
Sasha Aslanian
The evening had not started out well. I had gotten lost in the dark on the way to the cookie decorating party. It’s
that hectic time of year when holiday events pop up like deer at dusk. My two- and five-year-old daughters smeared
frosting on cookies and soon smudged my work clothes. When it was time to leave I chased them trailing mittens, hats,
scarves, sweaters, boots and parkas while balancing Styrofoam boxes of cookies. They dawdled to the parking lot on
the five degree night.
When at last we pulled into the garage a half-hour past their bedtime I decided for efficiency’s
sake to get the kids in the house first and then return for all the junk. As I opened my two-year old’s door,
I saw she had removed her boots and socks. I unbuckled her and carried her under my arm to unlock the house. She wrestled
and
screamed. I could hear her crying through the door as I returned to the garage for her sister and three more loads
of backpacks, lunch bags and discarded clothes. I could feel my head and neck prickling. “I don’t deserve
this!” I fumed to myself. “I’m going to IGNORE her tantrum.” I had passed straight through
hot anger and into cold.
Inside with keys and coats hung I kicked off my boots. Her tantrum wasn’t subsiding.
I turned my attention to my older daughter, but it was difficult to communicate in the presence of a screaming child
on the floor next to us.
Finally, I knelt down. “What do you want, Liv?” I asked her. “I unbuckle!
I unbuckle,” she
screamed, her face puffy and wet with tears. Let’s see, ten minutes ago she wanted to unbuckle herself from
the car and was still crying about it? I tried to unzip her jacket and she jerked away to writhe on the floor some
more. “You really want to go back out and unbuckle yourself?” I asked so she could hear how ridiculous
it sounded.
“Yes,” she nodded and seemed to calm down. She had been heard.
“OK,” I said. Sometimes I like to surprise my kids by being crazier than they are. “Get your boots on.” I
would call her bluff. After all, it was in the single digits, way past bedtime and our garage is dim and cold.
She
put on her boots. I slid into clogs and followed her out to the garage. I was pleased with my strategy for diffusing
this tantrum.
Liv climbed into her car seat. I buckled her in and shut the door and said to her from outside the glass, “We’re
home!” and opened her door. “Do you want to UNBUCKLE YOURSELF?” I asked with a smile, really wanting
to do the moment over just the way she had wanted it.
She gave me her warmest brown-eyed smile and said, “Want
YOU to do it.”
She completely disarmed me in that
moment. She met my gift with her own. I kissed her hands as I unbuckled her. We returned to the house together. We
had found grace in the garage.
Sasha Aslanian is a producer for American RadioWorks and a MOMbo volunteer. She lives in St. Paul Minnesota with
her husband and two daughters. |
