It was the last evening of our 5-day summer trip to the beach. We were out shopping for a souvenir, something small to remember it by. We ended up in a tiny gift shop at the top of a lighthouse, the kind of shop where you have to turn sideways to get down the aisle.
My husband had escorted our 3-year-old suddenly out of the lighthouse after suddenly having to go pee.
So it was just me and my girls in this lighthouse trying to find a souvenir with their $20 budget.
That’s when my 9-year-old started to sulk. She couldn't find a toy she wanted, and her sister already had. Then came the last straw. I asked if she needed more time and she ignored me completely.
I felt my chest tighten. Claustrophobic and annoyed all at once.
All I could think was, “Here I am trying to buy her something to remember this trip by, and she’s being ungrateful.”
That’s when I set a timer and decided to leave the shop, empty handed.
I held my tongue until we got outside the store, and then I said it, "I know it's hard not finding something you really like. It's ok to feel upset, but please don't ignore me. I'm doing something for YOU."
I don’t regret how I handled that moment or what I said. After getting home from the trip, I sat down to reflect on WHY this moment felt so upsetting for me.
Here's something I've noticed about myself as a mom more recently especially on family vacations. I’ll look around and think to myself, “Wow. What a childhood. My kids have it so good.”
It’s this quiet moment of gratitude mixed with grief over the childhood I didn’t have.
Most of us are trying to give our kids the life we didn't have. It's one of the best instincts we have as parents. It's also, without us realizing it, a trigger waiting to happen. When we're doing something for our kids to fill a need or a desire we never got to fill ourselves, resentment can sneak in.
“Look at all I've done for you” type **thoughts start to creep in. Add in the fact that we're exhausted, overextended, running on trip fatigue and too little sleep, and you've got a perfect storm.
That's what was happening in me, in that lighthouse gift shop.
My daughter was having her own perfect storm too.
To me, "just pick a toy" feels simple and should take 10 minutes tops. To her, in that moment, it wasn't simple at all. She was tired and just watched her sister find something she loved while she came up empty. She felt the pressure of everyone waiting on her to hurry up and choose. What felt like a small ask to me felt like a pressure cooker to her.
I wasn't dealing with an ungrateful kid. I was dealing with an exhausted, compared to, pressured kid, standing 3-feet away from an exhausted, resentful, trying not to snap mom.
Two triggered people in one TINY gift shop. Our triggers collided in that gift shop and neither of us realized what was actually happening in the other.
