A Resolve Towards Better Communication

Elder Marvin J. Ashton said, "The time to listen is when someone needs to be heard."

The other day our neighbor invited the girls over to play. Nikell had been playing with a little toy camera before we left and about half-way through our walk she suddenly jumped up and said, "I need my camera!" I told her that we were not going to walk all the way home to get her camera. She started to cry and protested that she REALLY needed to get it. I told her to knock it off and if she was going to go play then she needed to buck up and quit whining. She sat down in the stroller, took a deep breath, and said okay.

On the way home I found her camera. It was on the sidewalk, not five feet from where she originally asked to go get it. She didn't need to go home. She had simply dropped it and wanted me to stop the stroller long enough for her to grab it. And in my haste I neglected to listen to her, to understand her.

That poor sweet little 3-year-old managed to not throw a temper tantrum and, for all she knew, give up her camera for good. And this breaks my heart. I know better. I remember being a kid and wondering why grown-ups couldn't understand me. I remember being a teenager and watching parents ignore their children. I remember vowing to never be that way...

Last week, I was running to the grocery store. Jason was home. So I figured I would leave the kids and make a quick run. As I was getting ready to leave I asked Jason if he would grab Aiddie, who was behind the van. He rolled his eyes at me.

Yeah, really.

I was livid.

I had conversations in my head for 3 days straight about that eye roll. I could not understand why it was such a big deal for him to watch the kids for 1/2 an hour so I could go to the grocery store in peace. I could not understand why he couldn't see that I needed a little time alone. I could not understand how he could knowingly compound the guilt I already felt at running away (for a mere 1/2 hour to buy groceries!). I fumed and stewed and cried and prayed. He left me alone. I continued fuming and stewing and crying and praying. Until finally we sat down and had a little conversation. I explained my deepest darkest feelings to him. I explained how he had hurt me and how I was trying hard to be a good mother but I was currently at a loss at what to do to find balance in our lives. I explained to him the guilt. I explained to him the pain. I explained to him the turmoil.

Then he explained something to me. He explained that he had rolled his eyes because Sierra had been 2 feet away from Aiddie when I asked him to come get her. He rolled his eyes because wouldn't it have been more logical for Sierra to bring (take, for those who care) Aiddie to him rather than have him stop what he was doing and walk all the way over?

Are you kidding me? I wasn't sure how long I could continue on knowing that my husband was as big of a jerk as he was when he rolled those eyes. I vacillated between depression, anger, frustration, and physical pain for 3 days all because I misunderstood the meaning of an eye-roll? (Oh, and he apologized for the eye roll too).

Here's my problem.

I ASSUME (and we all know what that means) that I KNOW.

I am too prideful to stop and ask. In my marriage it creates anger and pain that is not necessary. With my children it literally stops me from being the parent I need and want to be. It shuts them off to open communication with me. It cuts them down and hurts them. Their innocent souls are squashed by my pride.

So, I am recommitting to better communication. I will swallow my pride and wait for explanations. I will be more patient and get down on my children's level and look them in the eye and listen to their soft-spoken words before I dictate a situation. I will be a better mother and wife. I will try try try.

"If your lips can keep from slips,

Five things observe with care:

To whom you speak, of whom you speak;

And how, and when, and where."

--William Edward Norris