Battle-choosing

“Life is about timing.”

Carl Lewis

You know how everyone says that when you’re raising kids you have to ‘choose your battles?’  Well, I’d like to add that once you’ve decided that something is battle-worthy, it is critical that you choose the right TIME to go into combat.  Last night, I blew it completely.

Big Daddy-O has been out of town for a couple of days and Grandma and Grandpa kindly invited us, and the cousins, over for pizza last night.  My family was slightly alarmed to see that Pip was wearing a hair-elastic anklet that was obviously too tight.  The hair elastic jewelry  had started earlier on her wrist, and when I discovered the marks that the elastic was leaving, I used the ‘explain and replace’ strategy.  I gave Pip an explanation as to why it was unwise to cut off the circulation to her hand with the tight elastic, then I replaced it with a lovely beaded bracelet that she had forgotten about.  She was pleased, but a few hours later, the tight pink elastic had reappeared on her ankle.  Apparently, the ‘importance of blood-flow’ speech hadn’t packed the punch I had intended.

So there we were, near the end of our evening at the Grandparents place, getting ready for a little post-pizza bike ride with the cousins.  I was suggesting that Pip wear a sweater when my sister wisely pointed out, “I’d be more concerned about that elastic around her ankle than the sweater.”  I looked at Pip.  She had her bike-helmet on, she was straddling her bike, ‘Peachy,’ and she was ready to roll.  I mistakenly thought that she would barely notice if I removed her anklet.  I reached down to her foot and said, “Sweetie, I’m just going to take this elastic off of your foot for your bike ride,” and slid it off over her shoe.

Before I go into detail about the ten-minutes of crying that ensued, you should know the following:

1. It was 6:40 p.m.; prime-time for mood-swings

2. Pip had been awake since  6:30 a.m., an hour earlier than her typical wake-up time

3. This was Day One of a cold.  Pip’s nose had been dripping like a faucet all day and she had held up remarkably well.

Had I considered these three crucial pieces of information, I most certainly would NOT have chosen to go into combat.  Was it a battle worth fighting?  Of course it was, but not when my daughter was feeling miserable and tired, and certainly not when I didn’t have the critical replacement anklet.

Pip started wailing the second the elastic was removed.  “Mama!!!” she kept yelling.  She was still on her bike; tears and snot, (sorry-is there any other way to describe it?) streaming down her cherry-red face.  I tried rationalizing with her and empathizing with her, then I gave her a very simple choice,

“Either you pull it together and stop crying so that you can go for a bike ride, or we go home right now.  I’ll count to three.”  I realized at ‘two’ that she was nowhere near being able to pull it together.  “Okay, let’s go home,” I said as neutrally as possible.

“No, Mama!!!” Pip screamed, but there was no turning back now.  I started to pick her up but she wouldn’t let go of the handlebars.  I carried a distraught Pip, (still clinging to Peachy,) to the car.  Luckily I had my sister and Mum for support.  They took care of  Fig throughout the entire episode and helped me load Pip, Fig and Peachy into the car.

Surprisingly, Pip’s cries decreased as I strapped her into her seat.  It was almost as though she was relieved that a decision had been made for her.  She looked exhausted.  As we pulled out of Grandma & Grandpa’s place I turned on the car-stereo and forwarded to track 8, one of Pip’s favourites.

I tilted the rear-view mirror slightly so that I could see how Pip was doing.  Peter Gabriel’s song, “Solsbury Hill,” transformed her.  She closed her eyes, rocked her head back and forth to Gabriel’s catchy rhythm, and sung loud and strong, “Climbin’ up on Solsbury Hill…I could see the city lights…wind was blowin’ time stood still…an eagle flew out of the night.”

I love the power of music; it can transform and transport.  Peter Gabriel moved us all to a happier place in that moment, and our thoughts of poor-timing and missed bike-rides were replaced with talking eagles.  By the time Gabriel sang, “Grab your things, I’ve come to take you home,” all three of us had joined him, and a glowing, full-moon decided to add yet another bit of beauty to our drive home.