• Beulah

The Message in the Mirror

We are visiting my sister in England, and I am actively aware of the differences in household etiquette and cleaning duties. So as I go thorough my holiday I try my best not to make a mess of things, being aware of the fact that my sister will go through the house after we left to clean and get it back to it’s usual state of childless spick and span. All lovely decorated in creams and matching ornaments (beautiful and positively inspiring).

The curse of being an educationalist is the shadow that always lurks just behind me, the need to always “educate and remediate”. This ‘’curse’” is harshest on my 13 year old daughter, now a teenager and very willing to show me where I could better on my parental duties and lacking skills. A stage in human development no one can prepare you for, not even 15 years at varsity with 4 degrees and almost 20 years in private practice. Being in it is vastly different than just observing it.

So this morning as I was showering I was running through my mind that I should start packing for our trip home, getting the room back to a state or normality. As I look in the mirror I see Zoë’s trademark scribbles on the mirror in the fog, which she makes on the tiles, mirrors and glass all around the bathroom when she entertains herself whilst we are waiting for her to get ready for the day! I see the hearts and the kissing crosses, and her artful pictures. The educationalist in me wants to react, and in my mind’s eye I see myself lecturing her, with a finger waving just in front of her cute nose.

I take a breath.

That never works. The evidence clearly visible on the surfaces around me. At least she is past the crayon phase!

Next thought; I will write a message on the mirror reading: ‘Don’t write on the mirror”

I sigh …

Will this not defeat the purpose of the “training”. It’s like shouting to a child not to shout, or hitting a child because they just hit another child.

So I leave the bathroom with a smile on my face, thinking about her reaction as she reads my message on the mirror: “Mommy heart’s Zoë”

How easy it is to sweat the small stuff and not see the lessons these lovely creatures bestow on us in thousand fold every day.

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