Screaming in my face
Years ago, my husband took me cross-country skiing. No big deal unless you understand I have no tolerance for myself in learning things. I am a perfectionist with no patience. Can you think of a more toxic combination? That day as I attempted to climb a hill in my slippery skis, I had it. I sat myself down, ripped off my skis and hurled them over the hill. I was proud to keep the swear words in my head. My husband hid behind a tree watching the whole scene. We had been married long enough for him to know the monster. To this day, I have only played chess twice with him. (Yes, I was learning how to play.)
Yesterday, my two-year-old daughter decided it was time to learn to dress-- it was time to walk away from the toddler years. During her first attempt, her two legs got stuck in the same hole. As I walked in, she sat on the floor refusing help from anyone. Her screams were enough to scare anyone away. My husband chuckled, "Yup she is yours." Besides the wonderful assurance, of yes she really is mine, I must ask. Why? Oh why, must we give our worst qualities to children? I would never pass on that defunct gene if I had my choice. The combination of perfection expectation and screams at first-failure are a lethal dose. I still do it. Well, I swear or pout now. I can promise you it is a quality that is not hot in an old married lady with kids.
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Lisa