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| Look at that attitude! |
A few months back, I had recently returned from
my mission, and (happy to have her go-to babysitter back) my mom decided it was
a good time to head off to Oregon to visit her parents for a week. While she
was gone I was to (in addition to my already busy work schedule) play mom for
my 10-year old sister. And so I made the quick transition from Sister Bauss to
Mama Bauss.
At first, things went smoothly enough. For the first two
minutes that is. I’d force myself to wake up every morning. I’d struggle to make
her a lunch amidst complains of “I don’t like Cheez-its” and “yogurt is gross”
and “but I had a PB&J sandwich yesterday!” Then there was the dramatics of
getting her to get showered and dressed—who knew a 5th grader could
be so picky with outfits! She was putting Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada
to shame!
By the time I would manage to get her out the door to the
bus stop, I was usually ready to crash on the sofa and leave the piles of hair
I had yanked out of my scalp in frustration on the ground to be cleaned up
later. The most infuriating part was the constant chorus of “YOU’RE NOT MY MOM!”
that would get stuck on repeat like a broken record. Tell her to practice
piano? “YOU’RE NOT MY MOM!” Ask her to clean her room? “YOU’RE NOT MY MOM!”
Over and over and over. And then, when she was getting unbearable sassy, I’d
pull out the timeout card. But what was my response? You’re not my mom.
I love my little sister to death, but I’ll be darned if I
wasn’t thrilled when my mom got home. Finally, some authority. Finally, some
peace.
All of us were on the giving end of that sass at some point I suppose. It really changes perspective when we find ourselves on the other side. Growing up I find myself thinking again and again, "Now I understand my parents." While those under an authority figure often complain they're misunderstood I think the really misunderstood ones must be the ones in charge.
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