Apologies

“Let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God.” James 1:19-20

We were running late. That’s not a new story, but I am trying to work on my time management skills. We were all ready to hop in the car for gymnastics, but Ella still needed her shoes. I told Tucker to go ahead and get in the car. His instructions were to go get into his seat and we would be right out. “Do not open the garage door, just get in your seat.” You see, he is a button pusher. I don’t mean a button pusher as in our “buttons” although that is the case sometimes. I mean any button that is available for him to push. He will push it and try to figure out what it might do. Even if you say freeze or stop! He has no impulse control. He especially loves hitting the garage door button on the opener in the car and watching the garage door go up, hence my comment for him to wait and not hit the garage door opener.

Everything happened so quickly once he opened the door to get into the garage. My initial reaction was just that—pure reaction without pausing or breathing to assess the entire situation. From my viewpoint, it looked like the first thing Tucker did once he got into the garage was exactly what I told him not to—open the overhead garage door. The worst part was that he left the door to the house open and our dog, Buster, got out. Before I knew it, he was two blocks down on the way to the walking path by the neighborhood pond. I ran after him, looked at Tucker, and said, “I’m so mad. I told you not to open the garage door!” I huffed and puffed while trying to calmly talk to my dog so he wouldn’t keep running. If he made it down to the pond, we weren’t just going to be late to gymnastics, we were going to miss it entirely. I was thinking about how late we were going to be and wondering why Tucker can’t listen to instructions and do what he’s told—he’s four, that’s one reason. I get back to the garage and Tucker is standing there staring at me as I walk towards him, pulling Buster with the collar. I look at him and say, “Tucker, we are going to be so late! Why didn’t you do what I said? I’m so disappointed that you opened the garage door when I told you not to!” His response was, “Mommy, I didn’t open the garage door. It was already open.” At that moment, I finally took a second to take a deep breath and think about what he said. I’ll be honest, my initial gut reaction in my mind was, righttttt—then who would have opened it?! But I didn’t say that I listened long enough to calm myself…and I felt so awful for raising my voice and getting upset with him. Because folks…he wasn’t the one that opened the garage. My husband forgot to close it earlier that morning after he took my in-laws’ suitcases out to their car. They packed up that morning after visiting for about a week. They left through the front door, so I never noticed the garage door accidentally being left open from my husband loading their car before work. Do you know how horrible I felt for assuming and getting so angry? Absolutely, terrible.

Well, time to swallow my pride. We are so quick to tell our kids what to do or to make them apologize when they have done something wrong, but what about owning it when we make a mistake? I knelt to his level and said, “Buddy, I am so sorry that I raised my voice. It wasn’t your fault that the garage door was open. Daddy had opened it this morning helping Nonie and Papa. When we make a mistake and realize we have done something wrong it’s important that we admit that. So, I was wrong to react that way and I am sorry that I thought you didn’t listen to me.” He said it was okay and that he was sorry he left the door to the house open. I thought about the whole scenario afterward and compared it to what the reaction might have been if it had been me when I was little. I don’t know if the people in charge when I was little would have paused long enough to listen to the child’s words. Sometimes we are so quick to jump to conclusions, the kids’ voice is overshadowed by the adult because we assume because we are adults that we must be correct. But in assuming we are right all the time and not giving our children the benefit of the doubt or owning when we make our own mistakes—we are teaching them that their voice isn’t as important as ours. It reminds me of the original Matilda movie when the dad says, “I’m right, you’re wrong, I’m big, you’re small and there’s nothing you can do about it.” I don’t want to be a Matilda dad; I want to be Miss Honey. I want to be quick to listen. I want to be slow to anger. I want to acknowledge my mistakes. I want my kids to know that everyone makes them. The best part about owning your mistakes and apologizing for them is that you get to move on knowing the other person cared enough to take a pause and admit they were wrong… sometimes admitting you are wrong is a hard thing to do, especially as an adult. If we can’t be the ones to set that example and acknowledge our own mistakes—who else will set that standard for them? We can’t expect our kids to do everything they are told, especially when it comes to giving apologies if we can’t do it ourselves.

Remember to apologize when you are in the wrong and listen to your kids. Sometimes they have a lot more to tell us than we give them credit for. Although saying you are sorry can be humbling—we need a wake-up call to pause and not just hear, but to really listen.

Have a great weekend and as always, happy reading.