The Bear Paw Festival: Parades, Ferris Wheels, and Forgiveness

Last weekend my boys and I went to the Bear Paw Festival in Eagle River with our friends Bob and Kristi. There was a 5K race( Kristi and Bob raced in it, good job guys!), a parade, carnival rides, and lots of booths. John had to work the whole weekend so I was on my own with the boys. Things started out great and as you can see from the pictures we had so much fun. By the late afternoon the kids (and parents) were feeling tired and hungry. We decided to grab lunch at Subway then head home for nap time. Subway was busy so we grabbed our sandwiches and found a patch of grass close to our cars to sit on and eat.
After several near misses of a pile of dog poop and lots of teasing and distracting of Kristi's girls as they calmly sat on the grass and ate I decided enough was enough and told Zander to please sit down. Sometimes I think that my boys must have long-lost genetic ties to a group of nomads because they are constantly wandering. Especially Zander. He is forever wandering around whenever he is supposed to be trying to get dressed in the morning, eating meals, making his bed, or brushing his teeth. Must be all that male child energy. So as you can imagine the call to continue wandering was much stronger than my instructions to sit down. I tried to persuade him vocally about three more times than I got up grabbed his hand and guided him to the sitting position. He promptly threw his sandwich at me. I was quite shocked and didn't really know what to say or do, but I did know, instinctively, that things were only going to get worse. And . . . they did . . . immediately. . . get worse. I picked up his sandwich and started packing up our stuff, I figured it was best to cut our losses and leave ASAP.

When Zander realized that we were leaving RIGHT NOW, he got really angry. Screaming and yelling of various names at me, most starting with poopy pants, immediately ensued. I must say that I did keep my cool in spite of the mounting mortification. I quickly apologized to Kristi (who was very understanding, by the way) and then started pushing my stretch limo (double stroller) to the car. At this point I didn't really care if Zander followed me or not, but I could tell that he was close behind me because the "poopy-heads and stupid poopy-pants" were not getting any quieter. Just get to the car. . .just get to the car. . . became my mantra. Finally after what felt like miles we reached the car but my hopes of this having a calming effect on Zander quickly died when he started hitting me as hard as he could while I buckled Asher in his car seat.

My just get to the car mantra turned into a desperate internal dialogue: is he seriously hitting me?oh no he didn't! i really want to smack him across the face. maybe even smack him into next week. don't do it. yes but he's hitting me. don't do it. you'll regret it. no i won't. yes you will . . .ok i'm not going to do it. After finally getting that darn five-point harness secured I turned around and spotted Bob walking and then jogging to my car. "Oh thank-you Kristi!" I thought. She must of seen the murder in my eyes and thought I could use a little help. Zander saw Bob too. He immediately stopped hitting and screaming at me and had the good sense to be a tiny bit embarrassed. Bob helped me get the stroller in the car and then we were finally able to leave.

I was naively hoping that that tiny bit of embarrassment would keep Zander's tantrum at bay for the forty minute ride home. Boy was I wrong. He immediately started whining that he was hungry. I calmly explained that he was more than welcome to eat his sandwich. After realizing that it was the same sandwich he had thrown at me earlier in this amazing tantrum he threw it at me again only this time it hit the windshield. I ignored him. He thrashed around in the back seat kicking the middle console between the front seats and tried to inflict as mush damage as possible. I ignored him. Then he kicked my arm really hard. I. was. driving. I then lost my cool and screamed in a way that I have never screamed before. All the previous anger and embarrassment and the newly felt fear of getting in an accident because he was kicking at me while driving burst forth like a deadly volcano. I screamed at him to STOP and WHAT DID HE THINK HE WAS DOING? I'M DRIVING! and HE BETTER NOT EVER EMBARRASS ME OR HIMSELF LIKE THAT AGAIN! that WAS NOT ACCEPTABLE BEHAVIOR EVER! FOR ANY REASON! WHEN WE GET HOME YOU WILL GO STRAIGHT TO YOUR ROOM AND STAY THERE UNTIL DAD GETS HOME! I'm sure there was more but I can't remember the details. Zander stopped kicking at me and started crying that he didn't want to stay in his room until dad got home. I stopped screaming.

After a few minutes Zander tried to explain that I made him throw his sandwich at him because I made him sit down. "No, Zander, you were mad and you made a bad choice and threw your sandwich at me," I said in a much calmer way. He continued to insist that all this was really my fault. After several different explanations about choices and anger and agency he was quiet. I had no hope that anything I had said had penetrated. I took solace in the fact that I didn't beat him into next week and I wished that I hadn't screamed like that. Mostly I just felt completely exhausted in every possible way. After about five minutes of peace and quiet I heard a quiet, "Mom?" from the backseat. . .

Me: Yes, Zander?

Zander: (quietly and shaky with emotion and humility) Well, I've been thinking about things and I think you are right.

Me: (shocked) Right about what?

Zander: Ummm. . . I think that you are right that it was my choice to be angry and throw my sandwich.

Me: You don't think that I made you do it?

Zander: No, I was mad and I did it.

He was quiet for quite a while.

Me: Do you think you should say anything else to me?

Zander: Yes. I'm sorry for throwing my sandwich at you and for calling you names and for hitting you. Will you forgive me? I was also thinking that maybe instead of staying in my room until dad got home maybe I could just have "quiet time" for awhile and I promise to have a better attitude when I come out.

John and I started teaching Zander how to apologize and ask for forgiveness when he was about three and so he has had a lot of practice. I've learned a lot from him about the subject and John and I really try to "practice what we preach" by apologizing to our children when we make mistakes and by truly forgiving when they want to apologize. So at this point in our conversation I had to really think about forgiving him. I still felt some righteous indignation about the whole episode and wasn't quite ready to let go of it. I knew that quite frankly Zander deserved to spend all that time in his room and then some. What he did warranted some punishment not just discipline, darn it, and it was my job as his mother to make sure he learned from this.

Then I remembered his quiet, shaky emotion-filled voice. I could feel his remorse and his humility. I believe it takes a lot of courage to admit you were wrong and truly repent of the wrong-doing. What would I be teaching my son if I chose to hold onto my anger and not forgive him? I decided right then that if he was going to have the courage to to be remorseful and really repent than the least I could do was show a little humility and forgive him.

Me: Yes, Zander, I forgive you. And when we get home if you can show me that you have really chosen to change your attitude than you won't have to stay in your room until dad gets home just for "quiet time." I love you and I'm sorry for screaming at you like that. I shouldn't have screamed and I'm going to try harder not to. Will you forgive me?

Zander: Yes, Mom, and I'm going to try really hard to not act like that again.

And so it was on that day that my five-year-old son Zander taught me more about humility and forgiveness than I have ever learned before. I often wonder who is really the teacher in our relationship and I think that sometimes we take turns.