It’s astonishing how quickly the truth can surface. I had quite the reality check recently. My two daughters and I were visiting my parents for dinner after a long drive from our home in Austin. Let me tell you, it wasn’t an easy trip.
We left Austin close to lunchtime and had to stop for food. After lunch, I was relieved when the girls fell asleep, but I soon realized that I was also drowsy. My quick coffee break woke them up for good. Then came the disagreements over music, which escalated to hitting, pretend hitting, and that annoying almost-touching-each-other that feels worse than actual hitting. To top it all off, we hit unexpected traffic just as the complaints of boredom began, coupled with urgent bathroom needs in the least convenient areas.
When I finally pulled over at a sketchy Subway to let the girls out, I discovered the back door was locked. Frustrated, I exclaimed, “I hate this darn car!” Now, before you judge me too harshly, it’s worth noting that an engineer designed a feature that locks the doors automatically once the car is in motion to prevent theft. But I don’t live in a high-crime area; I live in Austin. If I felt unsafe, I would consider relocating. Meanwhile, I open the door for my kids daily—thanks for nothing, Mr. Engineer!
Back at the dinner table, just as we were about to eat, my five-year-old Mia chimed in, “Mommy, Mommy, this is where the special part comes up!” My seven-year-old Lily added, “Mommy, we are about to say a praaayyyyeeer!” It was amusing that they thought I was unaware of this tradition, considering I lived with my parents for the first nineteen years of my life. My girls, however, only know our family’s current Unitarian Universalist practices.
Mia announced to Grandma, “We don’t say prayers at home!” My mom reassured her, “That’s fine; we like to say a prayer before meals here.” I added, “It’s important to express gratitude for the food, as many people worked hard to bring it to our table.” We all joined in the prayer, and then I prompted Mia to explain our dinner tradition.
As the youngest, Mia sometimes feels she has fewer opportunities, but she leads our “Good Thing, Bad Thing” activity at the table. This tradition involves each person sharing a good and a bad aspect of their day. Mia emphasized the importance of listening. She then decided Lily should go first.
Lily began, “Well, my bad thing is that on the drive, Mommy was REALLY grumpy.” I shot her a look, but she wasn’t being mean—just honest. “Mommy was shouting sometimes and using curse words…” she continued. I glanced at my parents, who were chuckling.
Lily went on, “Mommy has been stressed at work. She yelled at the car, and she got mad at us for saying we were bored.” My parents were laughing more now, and soon, I joined in. My dad remarked, “I’m learning a lot from this tradition!”
We continued sharing our Good Thing – Bad Thing stories around the table. Everyone listened and participated. I cherish this dinner tradition.
Afterwards, I addressed my daughters, saying, “1. You can manage a three-hour car ride without being overly needy, especially with all the books, toys, music, and movies available. 2. I apologize for not handling it better.” Despite my remorse, I still have a strong dislike for those car locks.
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Summary:
In this reflective piece, Jenna Collins recounts a challenging car trip with her daughters, highlighting the ups and downs of parenting. Through the “Good Thing, Bad Thing” dinner tradition, the family shares moments of honesty and humor, ultimately reinforcing the importance of communication and gratitude.
Keyphrase: Parenting Challenges and Traditions
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