Beware the Shower Door

"Yet the sound increased -- and what could I do? It was A LOW, DULL, QUICK SOUND -- MUCH SUCH A SOUND AS A WATCH MAKES WHEN ENVELOPED IN COTTON. I gasped for breath, and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly, more vehemently but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why WOULD they not be gone?"

--from The Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allen Poe

One evening in the not so distant past, I was helping the girls get ready for a special event--Christmas maybe, or perhaps a Communion. Whatever the occasion, it was important enough for me to comb each of their freshly-washed heads myself. I began with Agnes, sitting her in our upstairs bathroom, carefully parting her straight brown hair and running a comb through it. This tedious process always takes a while, and before long she was absently tapping our loose shower door with her foot. Back and forth went the foot, closing the faulty door, only to have it spring open again and again. "Honey," I said, not especially liking the repeated taps, but still unruffled, "Would you please stop doing that?" "Sure, Mom," she said, immediately pulling her foot away from the door as I continued to comb.

Finishing up, I called Theresa into the room, carefully parting her straight blonde hair and running my comb through it. Before long, I heard a tapping and saw that Theresa was nudging the loose shower door closed with her foot, only to have it fall open once more. "Theresa, could you stop doing that?" I said firmly, "The noise is bothering me." "Sure, Mom," she obliged, retracting her foot as I continued to comb.

Next in the chair was (then) six-year-old Margaret, who had been playing dolls in her room with Marie. I carefully parted her strawberry blonde hair, running my comb through it. Within minutes, I could hear a tapping--a maddening, grating, inexcusable tapping. Margaret was closing the loose shower door with her foot, reclosing it each time it fell open. "Margaret!!!" I bellowed like a Bear in a Baiting, "WOULD YOU STOP OPENING AND CLOSING THAT SHOWER DOOR?!!!!"

Margaret looked dumbfounded--my sudden outburst in that enclosed space taking her entirely off guard. She did not even cry, but just stared aghast, her stark white face going red to the ears. In my mind, there was nothing for her to be surprised about--hadn't I repeatedly been saying to STOP making that awful noise?

Within ten seconds, of course, I realized what I had done. My patience had been worn thin by the tapping and the monotony of combing head after head after head. Margaret had not done anything wrong, although it certainly felt as if she had. Collecting myself, I apologized to her, explaining exactly what happened. We shared a laugh over it, and all was well again as I finished combing that strawberry head.

Every now and then, a single event shines a floodlight upon hundreds of others, and so it was with this one. How often had I lost patience with one child over something inconsequential when in reality my nerves were frayed by one or two or half a dozen other people who had just done the same thing? [This is completely understandable too, isn't it? No mother wants to yell at her kids--that Bear in a Baiting would much rather be eating blueberries placidly, or better yet snoring in her cave!]

To this day, when I feel the heat of maternal indignation rise within me, I try holding off just long enough to ask myself the question: Am I being fair, or am I giving my child "The Shower Door"?

And when, as it often does, it turns out to be the latter, we usually share a laugh over it!

Comments

[Paula in MN]

Oh, Alice, how true. I know I have done this countless times with my own children.

[Margaret Mary]

Soooo good. So enlightening. So true.

[matilda]

Many times like these come back to haunt me and beat me down when I am at my lowest and make me think I am a terrible mother. I do always try to apologize for my behavior to them later but I worry about the effect on their souls in that moment. Sigh.

[Caroline]

So very true, Alice. It is reassuring to hear that I am not the only mother who does this, especially from such a lovely, gentle woman.

[Kate in NJ]

So true! Thanks for the lovely post.

[Theresa]

Sounds all too familiar.

[Beck]

You know, this means to much to have YOU write this, because I think of you as the gentlest of mothers. Thanks!

[Lynn]

This is true of me as well. It's rarely the first or second infraction or infractor ~smiling~ that causes the patience to fail but it's that 10th one or 110th one and then wo to the haples child who just left the banana peel on the kitchen floor ;o)

[Marie C]

Thanks so much for sharing this.....it has been happening to me all to frequently...darn my temper anyway!

[Suzanne Temple]

This is wonderful, Alice, and very true.

[Heather - NY]

Julie at Trinity Acres recommended that I check out this post. How true it is dearest Alice!!! I'll have to remember this story the next time I am ready to blow.

[Beth]

Alice, thank you so much for sharing this with us. It is a beautiful illustration of one of the most normal challenges that we mothers face -- and how we might better handle them.