Evening Firing Squad

Now that the weather is getting warmer and the flowers have started blooming, we have a nice little routine when we get home from daycare. Leo and Ellie burst from the van (with a little help from me) and race to the azaleas and rhododendrons (or as Ellie likes to call them, “rosemarys”) and bleeding hearts (on their way out, sadly) and various other plants and flowers and bushes that line our front yard, to survey the day’s blooms.

After this little nature moment, we slowly make our way up the stairs and into the house where the kids settle in, hip-to-hip on the love seat (not always quietly or agreeably, I assure you) to watch a thirty minute video while I prepare dinner. Leo’s latest obsession is “Oswald” but “Little Einsteins” is a close second.

Yesterday was different. Don’t ask me what possessed Leo to deviate, to bypass the porch and instead walk all the way around and behind the giant, violet bloom covered rhododendron bush under the front window, pick up the hose and aim it directly at me.

“Don’t do it Leo! Don’t do it!” I wailed. OK, screamed. I quickly dropped the two jackets, backpack, assorted lunch boxes and random coffee cup I had been holding, onto the hood of the minivan. I would need two hands for this one. And then…

Pow. Full-on garden hose spray to my gut. Soaking jacket, sopping shirt. Also neck.

Ellie was standing behind me and burst into tears on cue and then came her shriek of “Leo sprayed me!” Really she was merely misted (or was the victim of the excess water that bounced off my body).

I lunged toward Leo, trying to avoid any direct-in-the-face hose-action. I was moderately successful. And then came one of my finest parenting moments.

I grabbed the hose from Leo. And sprayed him back.

Not in the face mind you. Just on his shirt. And just a little. And not full blast. And then I immediately felt like the worst parent in the world. But can I pause to say how unpleasant it is to be sprayed in the face with a garden hose? I guess it was human nature or just a defensive reflex. Whatever it was, I’m not proud.

I turned the water off and set the hose down in the dirt. It was clear from Leo’s wide eyes and pursed little mouth that he knew immediately what he’d done was wrong (and probably, he also knew what I'd done was wrong). We went inside and the three of us huddled in the mudroom. I crouched down to Leo’s level and had a long talk about why it’s wrong to spray people with a hose. I showed him Ellie’s wet hair and my wet clothes. Leo hugged a moist Ellie and apologized and she whispered a tragic little “thank you.”

Then I went on and on (and on) about how it was definitely also wrong of me to spray Leo but that I was frustrated and mad and that sometimes even Mommy does bad things when she’s frustrated and mad.

In the moment, I was furious. About thirty seconds later, I realized it was pretty hilarious.

Oh well. I’ll try to do better next time. Hopefully Leo won’t log too many hours with his therapist over the old “My Mom Turned the Hose On Me” moment.

Cool under pressure. That’s me.