Perhaps, just perhaps, I am making a mountain out of a molehill. In our family, it certainly is. My other children, usually accommodate my rants and raves about personal peeves. They usually walk away and don't challenge my maternal intuitions. Not my Evvy. She has intuitions of her own. This morning it was barefeet.
It is February. A mild February, granted, but February it is, just the same. I am deemed by all in the household the colorblind and others to be the least style conscious. They all have to dress me, if my colors would match. But, I am still the mother. Today was dress up day, in Public School, whatever that means. It looked like style day, to me. Only one glitch, somebody was going to school with her feet completely bare, sandals. Not the type of sandals with a strip of leather or something, to cover most of the feet and only toes hanging out, or heels hanging out, but the entire foot open except for spaghetti straps. I simply mentioned that they were inappropriate for the rainy weather and the fact that it is February.
I am not used to defending my arguments and taking out all of the stops about such things with my children. My Enoch, usually carries the children to obey their mother, even against their wills. They don't even have a chance to demand a hearing, with him. He couldn't get to her feet. He couldn't threaten her, with a glare. I had to articulate my argument.
I chose humor, since we daily have laugh fests about this or that thing. Usually my style inadeqacies are the humor. Today, I chose Pocohantas. I said you do look like Vanessa Williams, but you are not trying out for the part of Pocohantas, so get those sandals off your feet. It didn't work. Tears, sparks, flames, words, back and forth we went. Each time, I tried to choose the humorous anecdote, as opposed to the command tone. I had no movement of her will. Not even, I will think about it. Not even, I see your point but. No and stubbornly no. What do you know about this, no!
In my mind's eye I could see the young Pocohantas going before the Queen of England. If she had a mother, her mother would have told her to wear her shoes and maybe she would have lived past 21 years old. (maybe she wouldn't have been a legend, either). I saw the years past where "The Mother at Home" book made me see the life and death importance of having some command of the will of your child. I had to win this challenge. I went down every path of Pocohantas logic. I tried grossing her out. Only stubborn tears and accusations ensued. Such is the teenage daughter's mind. I remembered, with fondness, the times of challenge with the older two girls and how much I love them as women and the challenge that they have become.
The Pox of rebellion had a demi-pliette and I pulled out the Epipen of maternal prayer and persistence and Half-Nelsoned that girl in the wrestling match. When all else fails, might makes right. You get those shoes off those feet and sing to the blue corn moon when you get home, do you hear me. Smallpox may be eradicated, but obeying your mother is not. She stepped in it with me this morning and the ring of wrestling is still bustling with the sound of our battle of wills. I won the battle of the shoes, this morning and we both learned alot about eachother's points. I love teenagers, but I am glad that we only have two more waves of them, after this one.
I titled this challenge Pocohantas Go Home!
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