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Why, when it came to her own mother, was it so hard to vocalize the things that mattered to her?
“Tab is very active. Unpredictable. She loves to climb and explore.”
“That’s good. It’s how a child gains confidence and a sense of the world.”
Ella wanted to explain to her mother how hard she had worked to stay balanced on the tightrope that stretched between encouragement and caution.
Should she confess that when her instinct failed her, she thought about her mother’s parenting style and did the opposite? No. Despite the choppy past, she genuinely wanted to heal their relationship. And their situations had been different. Her mother had been alone. Ella couldn’t begin to imagine how she would have coped in the same circumstances.
“It is good, but it’s also a little scary. She doesn’t know her own limitations.”
“Limitations are often in the mind. They’re what stop us from moving forward. Fear is a powerful set of brakes.”
The comment was so typical of her mother. Push your boundaries. Never listen to no. As if everything was a battle. Man against life, or in this case Woman against life.
It could have been taken straight from Choice Not Chance, not that Ella had read it. Like her sister, she’d decided it would leave a bitter taste in her mouth.
Maybe it was time to push her own boundaries.
“Not knowing your limitations isn’t a good thing when you’re playing close to a deep lake and a dark forest.” It sounded as if she was reading from a children’s book designed to thrill and scare young minds. There was a deep lake and a dark forest. “She needs to be watched.”
Her mother was about to scoop up snow, but she paused and straightened. “I’ve been watching her every second. I’d never let anything happen to her.”
And now she felt mean and small. “Of course you wouldn’t intentionally. But you don’t—I mean you’re not—” How should she handle this? We have very different views on child-rearing. “You’re not used to handling very young children, and she doesn’t know you. And you don’t know her.” And you don’t know me, and how I want to raise my child, which is very different from the way you raised us.
She waited, braced for a comeback, but her mother gave a tentative smile.
“You’re right, but that’s what this holiday is for. Getting to know each other better. So far we’re getting along just fine. I’m being guided by her.” She scooped up another handful of snow for Tab. “She asked if we could come out here and build a snowman together. I gave her a little breakfast. Just a slice of toast. She told me she likes toast. I presume that was the right thing to do?”
Ella was taken aback. “Yes, that’s—it’s great that you thought to give her something to eat.”
“She didn’t eat a lot on that journey. She wasn’t interested in food. We did a lo
t of puzzles together. Read a heap of books.”
“You were good with her.” Patient. Attentive.
“She’s a smart girl.”
Ella relaxed a little. This was more familiar. No doubt her mother’s next sentence would be, She’s going to be a doctor or a lawyer.
“She is smart. Sometimes too busy to eat.”
Her mother nodded. “I expect her body clock was all churned up. I tried to get her to eat more breakfast this morning, but she was desperate to be outdoors. I put plenty of layers on her. We held hands the whole way here.” She looked at Ella, troubled. “Did I miss something? Did I do something wrong? Because I thought I had everything covered.”
All her life Ella had desperately longed for her mother’s approval. Look what I’ve done, Mom. Look what I’ve made. Never before had her mother sought her approval.
“You’ve been great.” And maybe they were making headway. Maybe things could be different.
“You’re right that it’s been a while since I’ve been with children Tab’s age.” Her mother scooped up more snow for Tab. “I did some research, but that doesn’t really prepare you for the individual.”
Research? Her mother had done research? What type of research?
“Mom—”
“She’s smart and strong. She knows what she wants, but she has good manners. She’s a credit to you, Ella.”
Her mother had praised her. Her mother had actually praised her.
