She Didn't Mean To

The puddles on the floor during bath time.

The noodles on the floor after dinner.

The ink stains on the couch after crafting/drawing/writing.

She didn’t mean to make those messes.

Really. I know she didn’t mean to.

And yet I get frustrated. I get angry. I yell.

I wish I could say I don’t mean to. But sometimes, I can’t stop the words from coming out of my mouth.

The broken cup, the lost shoe. She didn’t mean to.

The half-done homework, the Chromebook forgotten at school, the destroyed artwork she’s trying to piece together.

She didn’t mean to.

I wish I could tell those who work closely with her that she doesn’t mean to do things that frustrate them. She doesn’t mean to make more work for them day after day after day. She’s not doing these things AT them.

But how can I expect them to be more patient with her than I am?

I try to rein it in. I try to listen to myself even as I’m fussing at her about the mess on the floor and how, as I kneel to wash her hair, I didn’t actually WANT to have to put my knee in a puddle of water.

But then she laughs. Even then, she doesn’t mean to. She laughs because she’s stressed and it’s her outlet. She laughs because she probably hopes the laughter will lighten the mood that I’m dampening with my bitching. She laughs perhaps because she doesn’t understand social cues and doesn’t realize that her laughter in the face of my frustration will only serve to piss me off.

And so, I get angrier and louder and meaner. And I hate it. I KNOW she doesn’t mean to do these things. And yet, they keep happening and I keep trying, even as I’m being a bitch, to turn it into a teaching moment to remind her that she’s NOT four years old. She can take a bath without making a mess.

And yet…can she? Can she really? Because there are moments when I wonder. Just like there are moments when I wonder if, while at school, she really can be left alone with scissors. For what it’s worth, at home, we do not leave her alone with scissors.

Reminder: she’s fourteen years old and cannot be left alone with scissors. Perhaps I shouldn’t be leaving her alone while she bathes. But she’s fourteen years old and she deserves a little privacy so…dilemma. I don’t worry about her safety, I just worry about the mess.

She doesn’t mean to be frustrating during dinner when she can’t swallow that last bite. She doesn’t mean to annoy you when she spits it out into the garbage instead of the toilet. It doesn’t matter that she’s been told where the best place for spitting food is. She needs to get it out of her mouth and does so into the most convenient receptacle.

She doesn’t mean to. She can’t help it. Are we pushing her enough? She’s perfectly capable…but is she?

There’s a struggle, a line we can’t quite see. We want to push her to do more, try harder, do her best but when will we know that we’ve pushed hard enough, when she’s done enough? When will we all see that she can’t help it and that she didn’t mean to?