Confessions and Small Miracles

CONFESSION #1: If you know the real me, you know I have a serious LACK of patience.  I will admit, I think I was born that way.  I often times would like to blame it on a MASS of children begging me to do or get something for them all at once, but I don't think I can charge them with such.  I think I just don't have there is a lot to begin with, let alone there being any sort of reserve.  That being said, it has been a very real, very challenging struggle to help my oldest child with her homework.  Yes, I do have a degree in elementary education AND yes, that should help me, but it doesn't.  If anything it makes me more frustrated that she is not catching on to what I THINK she should understand.  Because of this, my voice sometimes booms with the wrath of a fury I never knew I had.  Which brings to CONFESSION #2:  I, Megan, am a yeller.  I have tried not to yell, I pray not to yell, I have seriously conversations with myself about not yelling (yes, you should be worried), but I can't STOP.  It's pathetic.  Both of my parents were YELLERS.  It's just who I am, unfortunately for me and my WHOLE family (I do try to work on, I will have you know).  I am a passionate person, a stubborn person, and a LOUD person.  The first step is admitting it, right?  Now you know...

Sweet angel girl and her yelling, crazy mother.

Back to the story... so NOW that you know I am a loud and ferocious mother, I will explain the small, but mighty miracle that has occurred in our home as of late.  Here is a little back story: Miss Happy and I spent much of this SUMMER working on school work so that she won't get behind.  She, bless her heart, did not have much of a structured preschool background.  I should have paid to send her to preschool the first year we moved here, but we wanted to EAT.  I know, terrible, terrible parenting.  I probably should have gone out and got myself another jobby job, but I was naive enough to believe that it wouldn't be a big deal.  For our child, that wasn't the case.  She, and this is something I absolutely LOVE, LOVE, LOVE about my child, is a dreamer.  She makes up her own songs and her own rules.  Let me repeat that: she makes up her OWN rules.  She doesn't have too many self-made boundaries and, because of this I ENVY her freedom and her ability to be herself no matter who she is around or where she is at the time.  However, trying to harness such a free spirit is a CHALLENGE.  She doesn't seem to think the rules of grammar or mathematics apply to her.  She doesn't like to write inside the lines.  Her letters are uniform, whether they are upper or lower case.  She doesn't care that 9+7=16.  It could equal nine or four.  It can change from time to time. AND, while it does drive me nuts at times, I do love it about her.  Her teacher, not so much.  She is SUCH a hard worker and can give it her al when she wants to do so.

This being said, we worked and worked all summer on her reading and she struggled.  I think she is so focused on the smallest details that she starts to sound out words she already knows.  And she works hard at it, SO HARD that she makes it harder for herself by working so hard.  It was a exasperating at times and drove me to the edge of what I thought I could handle.  We worked and worked for months and months on sounding things out and we just kept crashing up against this painful, jagged wall that seemed to have no end... up until three weeks ago when I realized, again, something about my child and myself.  SHE is a GOOD girl.  She is an AWESOME girl.  She is AMAZING and SMART and KIND and FUNNY and CONSIDERATE and LOVING. And I am a heel.  I was trying to force her to do things MY way, not the way she was taught and not the way she is used to doing things.  I was making it WORSE by pressuring her to do something she wasn't ready to do and wasn't used to doing.  She was so afraid to mess up that she couldn't do anything but that.  There are so many times in my own life where I want don't want something to happen so BAD that I almost will that thing to happen.  I can't say this was the case, but something clicked.  As soon as I apologized for pressuring her, and forcing my own agenda on her it all changed and my child, my SWEET ANGEL girl, who puts up with all of my ugliness and yelling, read for the first time like a champ.  Her staccato reading was music to this momma's ears.  And while she has not yet perfected the rhythm, and is not perfect in sounding out her words, HER VOICE, AND HER BEING, ARE PERFECT TO ME.  

In the end, I know this isn't a big deal, it's not even a significant deal, but it is a ginormous deal to me because I learned the sweetness of my child and how PATIENT and KIND my daughter has become.  I also learned that I cannot FORCE things that are not yet to be, even if I think I can.  And finally, I learned how GRATEFUL I am for tender moments and lessons my Heavenly Father has for me.  While her being able to read won't move mountains, it once again affirmed the fact that he does ANSWER prayers, even the simple ones, and wants us to feel joy... especially a little seven year old second grader who feels so proud of herself that she is BEAMING.