Old Yeller

One of the treats and traditions of going to Grandmother’s is spending more than a fair share of time at the office. Along with trips to the bank, rides to the courthouse, and lunches at the café are endless hours of Old Yeller in the back of the shop. I’m sure the boys can’t count the number of times they’ve seen that movie, and at some point they will probably start to ask how it ends, but for now, they are satisfied with watching a playful pup turn into a fast and friendly dog.

A few days ago, after a discussion with Cooper about that movie, I thought back on a conversation I had with a friend of mine, who is also a mother of four.

Our chat came in the form of an email, the way many conversations seem to occur these days. We happened to be discussing our children, and another breed of “old yeller” which tends to growl and show its teeth in moments of frustration, distress, or exhaustion. This is not the cuddly, friendly Old Yeller of the silver screen, but the “old yeller” of the early morning, sleep deprived, haven’t had my coffee, house is a mess, gotta pay bills, kids are fussing, Calgon take me away variety. Very common among mothers, I’d say.

In this particular conversation, my friend was venting her frustration over her eldest daughter’s lolly-gagging early one morning before school. Trying to get three kids ready for the day, and a baby to boot, I can only imagine her irritation when she walked in the child’s room at five minutes till the bus and her daughter was still in her nightgown.

Evidently the sweetheart had been upstairs for almost 20 minutes finishing her journal assignment for class, and in a moment of Monday morning, mommy madness, my friend had allowed her “old yeller” show his teeth. She said, “I yelled and I yelled at her. And then I yelled again. I just hate yelling.”

After rushing around to get her dressed and in the midst of the whirlwind of the morning, the child put on her coat for the bus, looked up at my friend, and said, “Mommy, I feel bruised and hurt.” My friend asked her why, and her daughter said, “Because you made me feel that way.” What a blow to receive from a six year old child.

Though I hate to admit it, I am guilty of being an “old yeller” sometimes too. I think it is the frustration of life and whatever situation my kids and I happen to be experiencing at the time.

A while back, Brisco was having “one of those days”. He wasn't listening; he was being whiney and hateful; he wasn't sharing. I’d had to get onto him constantly, and after a while of that, Cooper looked up at me with a concerned look and said, "Mommy, you're being mean to Brisco." Well, that was a slap in the face. I certainly didn't think I was being mean at all, but evidently to a big brother it seemed that I was.

Whether it’s yelling, nagging, or just forgetting that kids will be kids, it is sometimes easy to let life get the best of us. We spend hours teaching, helping, playing, cleaning up, diapering, wiping, nursing, rocking, and yes, sometimes even yelling. We don’t want to yell, but sometimes, getting down on our knees, looking them eye to eye and "talking nicely" just doesn't get the job done. Sometimes, when a three year old has his pants down in the middle of a state-tournament crowd shouting, “I just peed on Brisco’s leg!” a little yelling from their mother is all they seem to hear.

But even in the midst of the chaos and insanity that motherhood can become, it seems our kids are the ones who are the best at putting us back in our rightful place when things get out of hand. A little “Mommy, I’m bruised,” or a “Mommy, be nice,” goes a long way in calming the “old yeller” in us all. I see it as a sign that we are doing a good job as parents. Our children know how good parents are to act because we have taught them with our own behavior. And they have enough security and self confidence to tell us when we falter.

My advice to my friend that day was, “Don’t beat yourself up. You are a good Mommy.” Besides, every girl needs to own a sweet yellow dog who’s not afraid to let out a growl and show her teeth…every now and again.

And that’s All in a day’s work!