“Mommy, tell me about my day.”
I recently heard someone say there is nothing longer than a toddler’s to-do list at bedtime. One of my 3-year-old son’s favorite stalling techniques (after the story, songs, prayer, you name it) is to ask me for the play-by-play of his day.
Sometimes he offers his (longer) version, which includes a jumbled list of places we went, food we ate and people we saw – not just over the past day, but the past week.
While this exercise is often what stands between me and finally collapsing on the couch, it gives me pause for two reasons:
- I’m moving so quickly through our days – completing chores, engaging in play, changing diapers, coordinating nap times and meal times – all the while working towards bedtime, that I forget what we actually did that day. This helps me draw myself into the present and be grateful.
- Our versions of the same day can sound very different. Some days end with me feeling defeated, out of control and weary. And my mama heart worries that my thin patience breaks his innocent little spirit.
But his version tells another story.
Me (in my head):
I wrestled you into your clothes and got you to brush your teeth by limiting storytime.
My son:
Mommy came to get me when I woke up, let me pick my clothes, and sang a toothbrushing song.
Me:
I got impatient when you changed your mind five times about what you wanted for breakfast and then asked me five more times if it was ready yet.
My son:
Mommy gave me peanut butter toast, blueberries and milk. I love peanut butter toast!
Me:
I escaped to the next room with my phone just to have a quiet moment away from you and your brother. I let you have too much screen time.
My son:
We played and colored, and I helped make cookies. I got to watch Daniel Tiger!
Me:
I asked you to wait, stop, be gentle, listen, be careful, stop yelling, wait patiently.
My son:
Mommy snuggled with me and read books with me.
Me:
I bargained with you at mealtime through your tears, begged you to get in bed, and said goodnight for the 17th time through gritted teeth.
My son:
We had dinner with Daddy, we played and took a bath, and Mommy gave me a kiss from the door.
Both accounts are accurate. I was sorry. I should’ve shown compassion. I should’ve been a better version of me for him. I’m working on all of it every day.
But he saw the good. I was focused on all my shortcomings and how I feel like I’m failing my kids around every turn. I forgot that all he wants is to share the day with me, no matter how big, small, joyful or angst-ridden our activities may be.
All I needed was a little bedtime-stalling perspective from a 3-year-old to let me know that I’m doing a great job afterall.
