If I were to compile a list of activities I find less than enjoyable, it would surely include kneeling on unforgiving floors and engaging with toys that have likely spent years marinating in a concoction of germs.
Recently, my beautiful, wide-eyed daughter excitedly asked me—after I had already been awake for what felt like a marathon—if I wanted to join her in a hairstyling adventure while she soaked in the tub.
Honestly? No, thank you. The idea of crouching on the frigid bathroom tiles and tangling my fingers in Mermaid Barbie’s probably germ-ridden hair made me wish I could conjure an excuse to escape. I could think of a million tasks that needed doing—like folding laundry or scrubbing dishes, or even something as extreme as poking my own eye with a hot stick—but sometimes, being the adult means putting aside your own desires.
I’m sure I let my kids down now and then, considering I still kiss them in public and refuse to let them tattoo their faces before family gatherings. However, I don’t want to be the source of disappointment all the time. I want them to remember me as more entertaining than I actually am, smarter than they might believe, and genuinely interested in whatever it is they want to share, be it Minecraft mods or the latest bracelet-braiding techniques.
It wasn’t until I handed my kids over to my own mother that I recognized her impatience with children. Not in a harsh way, but in that “my filter doesn’t work so well after sixty years” kind of manner. I never noticed this when I was young. I only recall her spending hours letting me select the perfect books at the library, skillfully untangling knots in everything, and smiling as I helped her bake treats. She was patient and supportive, always watching like a bird ready to flit off when her own interests called.
Little did I know that behind her calm exterior, she might have been envisioning a tiny escape from our activities—perhaps even contemplating how to peck me to shreds just to reclaim some time for herself.
From shuttling me to activities that surely bored her to tears, to making sure every birthday and holiday was filled with gifts from my favorite cartoon characters, my mother crafted a world full of joyful memories that she managed to enjoy as much as I did.
And now, I fully appreciate all of it more than I can express.
This is why, that night, as I gazed down at my daughter clutching two long-haired mermaids amidst a sea of bubbles I had created using my special technique, I smiled and pushed aside my exhaustion and reluctance to say, “Of course, sweetie!”
It’s the reason I spent the next half hour ignoring the discomfort in my knees as I created mohawks, updos, and side ponytails by the tub. It’s why I taught myself how to French braid the tangled hair of a doll with a fading eye the next morning, preparing myself to say “Yes” again when she inevitably requests our beloved tub hairstyling game.
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Summary
In the journey of parenthood, we often find ourselves sacrificing our own desires for the happiness of our children. Through the lens of a simple hairstyling game, the author reflects on the importance of embracing these moments, even when they seem inconvenient. The struggle between adult responsibilities and the joy of being present for our kids is a common theme, and learning to say “yes” can create cherished memories.
Keyphrase: “embracing parenthood”
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