Doing Something Well

Teaching your kids to do something well is hard.  We can all teach any kid an intro to _____ball, the basics to good manners, and the cliff notes to the birds and the bees.  But really diving in and fully explaining, demonstrating, practicing, checking, correcting, and practicing some more is a beat down…for the parent and the child alike.  It’s worth the investment, though, as learning to do something really well, outside of sports, academics, and the arts, seems to be a dying art for kids these days.  Investing time to instruct my children how to do things really well not only helps teach my kids to take ownership of their work, but it also helps them separate themselves from the herd by mastering what used to be called basic human necessity:  taking care of yourself, earning a living, keeping house, and managing money.

All or nothing is my motto, so teaching moments with my kids are pretty intense.  It’s hard for them and hard for me.  Today was housecleaning.  They’ve been involved for years with picking up after themselves, clearing dishes, and doing housework chores here and there.  But today, we stepped it up a notch.  With a new Family Economy in place where the girls are responsible for earning their own money for their wants and needs, such as clothes, entertainment, toys, events, etc. by completing their daily personal and household tasks, my kids have an opportunity to earn bonus money for the chores typically deemed a pain in the you-know-what, which are typically performed by you-know-who.

My eldest was looking to make up for some missed earning opportunities during her week, so she offered to help me with the housecleaning.  Sound like a win-win, right?  I get help with the dreaded cleaning and she earns some extra cash.  Not so fast.  Sure, she’d dusted some furniture before, moved  a mop over the kitchen floors, and even introduced herself to a toilet brush a few weeks back .  But to complete a cleaning task to the level that doesn’t require a re-touch or re-do from another person, a.k.a. me, requires a strategy.  Strategies take thought and experience and planning, all which require time, and in some cases, input from others.

The sweeping of the basement went off without a hitch.  Location of vacuum?  Check.  Rooms to sweep?  Check.  Attachments to use?  Check.  She vacuumed the whole basement in under 20 minutes before carefully drawing up the cord of the machine and putting it away.  She forgot the downstairs bathroom, so she used her noggin and grabbed the portable, battery-opertated vacuum from upstairs to do that small area instead of hauling out the heavy, old-school vacuum that needed to be unspooled and plugged in.

Next came the feat of cleaning the basement half bathroom.  Rarely used, it is an easy room to keep tidy.  But to a 9-year-old, it still seemed daunting.  Together we went through the steps of cleaning….mirror first, then sink, then tank of commode, with toilet bowl last.  I explained the reason for the order (so you could use the same cleaning rag for all surfaces) and which product to use that would accommodate all surfaces.  She did a great job….both efficient and clean.

The final chore was the upstairs full bathroom.  She knew it was a big job, but wanted the big payoff ($3).  Using the same concept as the basement bathroom, we incorporated the tub, the tile floors, and the free-standing cabinet into the cleaning equation.  She asked me for help with how to get the dirt off, where to stand to reach the mirror, and what to take off of the sink, cabinet, and tub, before cleaning it.  All in all, it took her almost an hour and a half to clean that room alone.  It was sparkling.  She was proud of herself and happy to earn her bonus chore money. 

Six hours into a four-hour housecleaning job, I was exhausted and my temper was short, as not only was I trying to clean one floor of the house in its entirety, but also trying to instruct my 4-year-old how to clean windows and mirrors to the point of no smudges, while simultaneously helping my older daughter  navigate the bathrooms.  It was an important day for all of us.  Each of my kids learned how to do a common task well.  I didn’t pay for a piano instructor to teach them to play notes or rely on a professional teacher to help them learn to read.  I taught them myself how to do something elementary -  clean well -  and they learned.  They taught me to do something elementary - be patient and give them the time they needed from me - blow the schedule and the tasks and just live in the moment for once.  We took a break to practice shoe-tying when my 4-year-old needed a break.  We worked together as a team.  We all got frustrated at times, but we forged ahead and finished our work so we could relax and play later.  

If you’d ask my kids tomorrow if they’d rather take a turn on the tire swing or clean the house again and earn extra money, the tire swing will win out every time.  But in talking about the experience afterwards, they both reminded me that we had fun too.  We listened to loud music and danced while we cleaned and felt proud when we accomplished our goals.  We really felt like we deserved our bike ride in the late afternoon.

I could go on and on about parenting today and the lack of expectation we hold for our children when it comes to contributing to the household or even contributing to their own well-being, but to be honest, I’m more concerned with my own kids learning how to learn, and even more importantly, instilling in themselves the desire to do for themselves, than I am for society at large.  My daughter knows how to keep her own house clean, and if need or want be, how to make a living by keeping other people’s houses clean.  I’m a proud mama.

Blame It On Texas

It's so hard to be a good parent. Sometimes I just want to be a not so good parent. It's a daily struggle to make sacrifices to do the right thing by your kids. And sometimes I wonder if I'm overdoing it and trying too hard to be a good parent.

Today I’m not overdoing it.  My nine-year-old doesn't need to be sitting on the couch at home from school today. She could have gone to school, but she would need to have breathing treatments every so often.  She's home because I don't want to walk over to the school every four hours and give her a breathing treatment and I don’t trust the school nurse to dose it out to her.  I’m being lazy.  I want some time to myself.  It’s been weeks and weeks of sickness and out-of-town visitors and obligations and requirements.  I just want a minute to myself.  So when I called the asthma doctor to get an appointment for her today and was told to be prepared to wait for a while when there, I lost it.

Sometimes it all just piles up and I feel like I'm going to suffocate. I feel trapped in my own life.  I don’t want to spend my day dropping kids off, picking them up, and waiting for an opening at the doctor’s office.  I want to be in the yard with my fun flighty friend pulling weeds and having no worry larger than ‘Should I move the Hostas to the other side of the yard or leave them where they are?’  I want to be completely selfish.  I don’t want any responsibility today. 

I usually end up doing the right thing as a parent but I always wonder if I will. Today I told my partner that I’m at the end of my rope.  I don’t feel capable of doing it anymore. She already knew and she was there to back me up with a solution.  She’ll take the sick kid to the doctor and I can be selfish and stay home for a few hours of sunshine and dirt in the back yard.  I’m lucky.  I know I’m lucky. 

For now, though, as I watch my four-year-old struggle with her interactions with her nine-year-old sister, I subconsciously wonder why she’s being so snippy and rude.  A sweet, considerate girl otherwise, she is prone to sassiness from time to time.  But today, sassiness doesn’t even begin to describe what I’m hearing. 

“Quit talking,” she says as she cuts off her older sister.  “I don’t want to hear you anymore.”

“You’re not being nice.  I’m never going to play with you again,” she threatens when she doesn’t get her way.

Seriously?  They’re already both sitting in the Work It Out Chair, which means they’re trying to work through a disagreement that has been tagged by me, but I am unable to intervene. They’re supposed to stay in the chair, sitting side by side, until they can each admit their wrongdoing to one another, apologize to each other, and give each other a hug.  It starts out great every time with the apology.  But instead of acceptance moving on to the hug, the acceptance keeps getting followed with a BUT.  The BUT negates the apology and acceptance.  Then it’s back to fighting again about the BUT.  It’s exhausting even to hear.

“Blah, blah, blah…..,” singsongs the 4-year-old to the 9-year-old.  “I don’t want to listen to you anymore,” she says with her hand in the air as a blockade in front of her sister’s face.

Intervene I must.  No longer a productive ‘work it out’ session, I’m now witnessing a diminishing level of respect coming from a toddler.

“To your room,” I order.  “Time out.”

She cries, she sobs, and she wants attention.  After a few minutes, I enter the room to find her crumpled in the corner of her room, crocodile tears running down her face.

You’d think I’d ask her why she’s crying or what she’s thinking about.  Not me, though.  I force her to climb on my lap and listen to my words and ask her if she understands.  I honestly don’t give a shilling what she’s crying about or what she’s thinking.  I just want her to lose the attitude.

“Who did you learn this disrespectful language from?” I ask incredulously.

“I don’t know,” is her reply.

“Was it so-and-so or whatchamacallit?”

“No.”

“Did you see it on TV?” I inquire.

“I don’t think so,” she says uncertainly.

We talk about respect and treating people the way you want to be treated and asking forgiveness and truly meaning it…the whole ball of wax.  She takes her ridlin of punishment and I release her from the time out to again join her sister in the Work It Out Chair to tie up loose.  From the sounds of it, it’s going to be a long day.

Incredibly, they work out their differences and return to the board game they had started earlier.  A few minutes into it I see the 4-year-old take her hand and sweep it across the board in anger, knocking all of the game pieces off the board.  She’s had it with her sister and the game.  I’ve had it with both of them. 

“To your room,” I ordered again, giving the tot Miss Allen Eye.  Miss Allen was my elementary school principal.  Super kind and supportive woman and great principal, but when you pushed her buttons, she tilted that head to the side, squinted up the right eye, and glared at you so hard with the left, that the intensity damn well may have burned a hole in you.  The rumor among school kids was that it was a glass eye that allowed for the laser-like glare.  Real or artificial, my sister and I spent many an hour trying to perfect Miss Allen Eye over the years.  But to be honest, I’ve never actually used it on anyone before.  There’s a first for everything.

Little Miss Tantrum marches off to her room again, scared to death of me.  I’m scared to death of me.  I’m screaming and stomping and slamming doors because I am just sick with grief over the girls’ behavior.  I’m sick of myself too!

Truth be told, the asthma medication is the real culprit of today’s bickering.  The more my eldest takes of the steroid, the worse her mood becomes.  The sicker she gets, the more medicine she takes, the snottier she acts.  She can’t help it….it’s a side effect of the meds to be cranky.  She's moody, broody, and short with others. As a result, she pisses people off, and to add insult to injury, everybody else starts acting insufferable in response, including her parent….a huge Catch 22. 

But I don’t think of that when I go in to talk to my toddler.  I ask her again where she learned such inappropriate behavior. 

“Is it your girl friends at school?” I want to know.

“They sometimes act like that,” she replies honestly, “but that’s not where I learned it.”

“Well what about what’s-his-name,” I ask, “does he act like this?”

“No,” she carefully responds, “he doesn’t.”

Before I can ask another question I realize that she’s picked up her behavior from me and doesn’t want to make me angrier by telling me!

It was me stomping through the kitchen and slamming the freezer door because I was so pissed!  It was me who cut off my 4-year-old and wouldn’t let her explain, so I could get MY point across.  It’s me she’s freakin’ mimicking!  Holy tamole.  What a bomb.

After I’ve dropped the toddler off at school and I am driving home, I consider that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.  I remember getting in trouble myself in high school for using profanity toward a teacher.  

When my father got word, he screamed, “Goddammit, Jesus Christ, Stacy…where in the hell did you learn to use such language?”

Ha.

It’s the world spinning around, over and over, year after year, and people doing the same stupid shit their parents did before them and their parents’ parents did before them.  What a trip.

I’m laughing to myself about parenting and what a crap-shoot it can be, as I’m cruising home in my beater car that probably has no business sharing the road with others, when a fancy shiny black car pulls out in front of me from God-knows-where without warning.  I come close to ramming the car from the rear.  I go to honk and realize our horn has been eternally broken for over 2 years.  We replace the fuse over and over again, and it goes bad usually after the first good use of the horn.  If I’m not too fired up and just casually using the horn as a warning or reminder to drive, the fuse may last through 3-4 short bursts, but if it’s a good long, “What in the Sam Hill are you doing?” honk, the fuse is usually blown after that. 

I had just asked my girlfriend to replace the fuse last week and apparently she hadn’t gotten around to it, though, as no sound comes out now. In this case I have to make my own sound of warning, so I scream through the closed window toward the man driving the black car with closed windows.

“Expletive Expletive, you’re an Expletive Idiot!” I yell at the top of my lungs.  As I look down at the license plate, I realize it’s a Texas plate.

Offreakingcourse it is!

I can’t stand Texas, but even worse, I can’t stand when my kids pick up my bad habits.  I’m going to blame all of today’s bad behavior on having lived in Texas.  Today I wipe the slate clean of my southern parenting slips and I decide I’m going to give my kids and myself a do-over.    

Hometrainin'

As I encounter more and more kids and teenagers in situations where I am dumbstruck with the lack of respect, accountability, and manners they display, I am acutely aware of myself getting older and older, and how my thoughts and complaints about kids these days must mirror those of my parents 35 years ago when they encountered kids and teenagers in an alien-esque fashion, and their parents before them.  

“Those damn teenagers,” I could imagine another generation of parents lamenting after hearing loud rock n’ roll music wave downstairs into the kitchen from their child’s room above.   

“Well I have never in my life….,” I can guess another mother might have said fifty years ago after seeing her daughter bound out of the house without a bra or proper hairbrushing, and wearing a halo of flowers on her head and a hippie skirt over her unshaven legs.

My current day complaint of kids being disrespectful to me, to their teachers, to their classmates, to their parents, and to society at large, might just be the passing of the torch from my parents to me of their misunderstanding the new crop of young people. 

I think it’s more than that, though.  I think we are failing as parents today to give our kids the proper home trainin’ they deserve, creating a lazy, entitled, unappreciative, and snotty crop of kids, destined to set a precedent for years to come.  

I see it everywhere I go.  Kids shouting at their teachers.  Tweens rolling their eyes at their principal.  Preschoolers smacking their classmates.  Teens lying to their parents.  Grade-schoolers giving the school volunteers ‘the finger’ as they turn their back. 

None of these actions are surprising, but instead expected.  Kids learn to be the people they grow into by testing their boundaries.  It’s human nature.  What’s astounding to me is that I don’t see punishment or ramifications being handed out by anyone for these kids’ actions.  With no consequence, the actions are repeated, become frequent, and become a way of life for some kids and young adults.  From the parents to the schools to the community at large, we’ve all decided complacency is the best medicine…just stand back and watch it all happen with no involvement or action.  By all means, let’s don’t come down hard on the kids, as we may damage them.  Seriously?  What we’re doing instead is destroying our kids’ chance of learning some of life’s difficult lessons as a minor, and instead setting them up with faulty expectations of how the world revolves (erroneously thought, around them).

Think of it, as a parent, if you correctly deal with an overly obvious foul like cheating or stealing when your child is still a minor, you can hope to both address the value at large that you want to teach, like honesty, as well as prepare your child for an adult version of the reaction she will expect from her action of cheating or stealing.  If you don’t properly address this issue when your child is still a child, your child will be shocked when she gets arrested as an adult for cheating or stealing, and have no idea why it’s wrong, since Mom or Dad let her skate by without consequence for cheating as a kid.

Time and time again, I’m flabbergasted at our responses as responsible adults, raised under a different set of standards than today’s kid.  Damage to property that’s not theirs?  No worries, they’re kids and that’s what they do.  No consequences doled out by damaged property owner, so kids have their first taste of getting away with something without a repercussion.  There once was a day when if a kid was blessed enough to avoid a rap sheet instilled by a third party, he still had his parents to reckon with.  Nowadays, parents don’t hand out the punishments either. 

“Just a stupid prank,” they say.  “It’s no big deal.”

How about the kids smoking pot on the school lawn in broad daylight, on a crowded weekend with 50+ kids and parents hanging out on the playground and another 50+ kids and parents walking in and out off the entrance where the kids are smoking?  Did anybody (including me) stop and advise the kids to move on, as there are kids around and it’s a felony to smoke on school property?  Of course not, as it’s not our problem and we don’t want to be confrontational.  Did the police show up when the incident was reported while the kids were still on the school property?  No, they didn’t respond either, as pot’s so low on the totem pole of criminal activity, or maybe they didn’t show up because they know the parents in the area are going to sweep it under the rug anyway.

More and more I see with my own eyes, and hear in open narrative from unashamed parents, kids being allowed to act inappropriately without consequence from their parents.  I don’t think it’s the attitudes of the parents toward the actions themselves, that has changed over the years, i.e. most parents still think that their young kids shouldn’t swear.  It’s more about parents’ lack of structure in setting up expectations of behavior and ramifications for not meeting those ideals that has changed.  While there has always been, and always will be, a wide array of opinions from parents as to what is deemed acceptable and unacceptable behavior for children, the general understanding since I’ve been alive has been that parents’ purpose is to guide and instruct kids, which sometimes (oftentimes) means disciplining them.  I always expected that as a child.  Please keep in mind I did a lot of shitty things as a kid and young adult….I was always in trouble.  However, I was ALWAYS held accountable for my actions.  This taught me how to survive in this world we live in.  My college degree, my academic honors, my impressive resume all mean nothing without the lessons I learned from my parents, my educators, and my elders, about accountability.

I don’t get the sense that many children today are held liable for their actions.  Of course this is a gross generalization.  I know many families both near and far that not only set expectations, model values they want their kids to learn, but also unwaveringly dole out penalties or consequences for the lack of adherence to those ideals.  It feels, however, that as a parent, those folks and I are in the minority.  Is this possible?

Volunteering to help keep the kids corralled at the school musical dress rehearsal this week, I was saddened by the actions of some of the kids and the lack of reaction to such.  I was shocked to see and hear the forwardness in which some of the older kids (7^th and 8^th graders) responded to parent volunteers, their teachers, and school security guards.  From boldly using profanity in front of parents and younger children, to saying they hated their musical instructors in front of other teachers and parents, to completely disregarding, disrespecting, and name calling parent volunteers, some of these kids were truly beasts!  Entitlement is the only thing that keeps ringing through my head. 

“They won’t get a job in this world,” another mom urgently whispered to me, after shushing two or three of the same unruly kids for the umpteenth time, and getting blank stares, snickering, and drop-dead looks from the teens, before they continued shouting to their friends.  As I nodded in agreement, she asked incredulously, “How can their parents raise them this way and expect them to be fully functional adults?”

Nail.  Head.  They won’t be fully functional adults as we, or maybe I should say I, at this point, since I may have lost many of you already in my rant, may know them.  They’ll be a new hybrid of surly kids from the school of ain’t got no hometrainin’, in which they were not educated in how to be good people, or at the minimum, act like good people!  As parents we’re performing such an injustice to our children by not preparing them for life, where they will get knocked down and dragged in the street for their inability to comprehend consequences for their actions.

The sad thing is they will get jobs, but not the ones they want.  Their parents will then complain that their kids are a product of the weak economy and the mess this country has put them in.  And I’ll be standing here to wholeheartedly disagree.  Your kids won’t flourish because you’re not giving them the tools by which they can own their choices!  Give them some freakin’ hometrainin’!  By that I mean teaching the basics to them of how to be decent people, and then holding them accountable for their actions.  From instilling values such as integrity, honesty, and respect through example, to coaching them in manners, consideration, and cause and effect, each acts as a building blocks toward a responsible, conscientious, human being that can live in reality. 

As I keep rolling the film in my head of the snarky attitudes I encountered  at the musical rehearsal (by and large the group as a whole was great!), I have to remind myself that it’s really not the kids I’m mad at…it’s the parents making excuses for them.  It’s the parents not requiring them to be decent at home, thereby allowing them to be rude at school and in public as well.  It’s the parents not supporting schools, teachers, organizations, and other parents when they try to enforce acceptable behavior in children.  It’s the parents who scoff at the idea of their child having to do anything other than show up to ‘make the grade.’  I’m angry at the teachers who don’t’ demand appropriate behavior, even though I know they don’t get the support from the school they need and the parents don’t take them seriously.  I’m angry at the administrators for being weary of the parents and not enforcing rules, so as not to make waves with the parents.  And most importantly, I’m angry with myself for not speaking up more…to kids to parents to school officials.  I too, have gotten lazy and have taken a huge step down from my soapbox, where I too, don’t always practice what I preach.  I could be more a part of the solution than part of the problem.

As a society, we’ve stopped old-school parenting.  We’ve stopped teaching our kids to do the right thing and live by the Golden Rule.  We’ve stopped demanding respect from our children, much less to those around us.  We’ve given up on teaching them courtesy, manners, and how to be cogs in the wheel.  We’ve instead filled their heads with the bullshit that they can do anything, be anyone they want, if they just will it to be, which we know will not happen if they don’t ‘work the program’ of respect taught in Hometrainin’ 101! I know many an acquaintance that has made it in this world by using manners, hard work, and doing what’s right.  I know just as many acquaintances who never made it anywhere, despite, advanced degrees, prestige, and the best that money can buy.

I often wonder if sometimes parents just decide that it’s easier to let their kids be, as they don’t have to be the bad guys if they don’t discipline them.    

“Kids these days…..” parents laughing say to other parents when their own children refuse to acknowledge them, much less answer their question of “what time will you be home tonight?” before stomping out of the house. 

My gut instinct when I’m standing on the other side of that conversation is to block the despondent teen walking away from her parent without a response nor a goodbye, and force her to address her mother with respect.  My second impulse is to give that mother a slap in the face, or throw a bucket of cold water over her head to get her attention so she can WAKE UP and see the monster she’s creating.  My final intuition, and usually the path most traveled, is to walk away from the situation and the family, and don’t come back.  Sure, every kid is going to act out from time to time, but experience has shown me that when parents allow blatant disrespect without ramification to happen in front of their friends or in public once, it usually happens again and again, which is my cue to exit stage left.  

Look, I know with 100% accuracy that my kids have and will act in ways that are or can be perceived as disrespectful to others.  I am also confident that my children will know when they’re doing it and will not be surprised when their next play date is cancelled or their bottom is walloped because of their actions or behavior.  I want them to have the experience now, so they experience cause and effect without too much discomfort as a child, as once they step over the threshold of adulthood, I can’t lesson the sting of consequence.  Even though it’s uncomfortable and sometimes even difficult to impose retribution for inappropriate actions, I’m comfortable knowing it will help them be better people in the end.  And after all, isn’t fashioning a good person just as important, if not more, than producing a math whiz or a millionaire or a president? 

To Be or Not to Be....a Good Parent

The definition of a good parent is subjective.  From self-reliant, to successful, to soccer extraordinaire, and everything in between, parents are judged on a lot of different markers when it comes to the outcome of their kids.  Some define a good parent as someone who takes care of his child’s every need, and then some.  Others classify a good parent as one who makes decisions in the best interest of her child first, before anything else.  Still another faction of folks designate a good parent by the level of respect and politeness said parent’s children demonstrate to others.  There’s no one, solid, correct answer.  Basically, as a parent, you have to choose what’s important to you to provide for your kids, and dig in from there.

It’s not easy, by any stretch of the imagination.  Sometimes it’s downright hard to make the decisions that you know are right for you and your family.  Take, for instance, today’s decision to let my child muster through running club after school without her running gear that she neglected to pack.  On the way to school this morning, I double-checked my 9-year-old that she had her bag running clothes for her after-school program.

“I have that today?” she inquired earnestly.

“Yep.  Every Monday and Wednesday.  Today’s Wednesday,” I responded matter-of-factly.

At that moment, the 2^nd bell rang from the school, still a half a block away, indicating it’s time for my daughter to hit it so that she can make it into her seat by the last bell.

“I’ll pick you up after run club!” I yelled after her.  “You’ll be fine in your jeans.  Love you!”

There was not time for my daughter to get upset.  She bolted across the street, down the block, and into the entrance of the school.  It was actually an ideal situation.  I didn’t have to deal with the moaning and groaning of her worrying how she will possibly run in jeans instead of sweatpants and her nice knit shirt instead of her long-sleeve thermal and sweatshirt.  There was no chance for her to ‘wa, wa, wa’ about how unlucky she is for having forgotten her good running shoes and tell me that she’ll probably get a blister from the shoes she has on.  It was just done.

I did an about-face and headed back home, without a second thought to the after-school running.  By 10am, I was debating whether to pack a quick bag and drop it off at school on the way back from dropping my little one at preschool. 

“No, I’m not going to do it,” I kept telling myself.  “This is good for her.”

My 4^th grader has had a hard time this year with organization and planning and scheduling.  First it was the homework…when to do which assignments during the week to meet her class deadlines and when to push it off until another day.  Next was how to function when getting home late from after-school activities, where she sacrifice some of her free time, family time, and homework time.  Now she’s working on finessing her morning routine so that she rises, takes care of her school preparations before eating and free-time, so that she’s always ready for her day.  My gut told me that this was a lesson for her in the last rung of her organization ladder.

I went on about my day, but by mid-afternoon, the freakin’ running bag entered my mind again!  Maybe I was being too much of a hard-ass and I should just throw her shoes and some sweats in a bag and drop them off in the office at school before the end of the day.  After all, she’s a good kid.  Competing in my head, though, ran a loop of a conversation I’d recently had with a school official regarding the high number of instances each day where parents drop forgotten items off at school for their children.  Lunchboxes, lunch money, gym clothes, homework, and projects….all things that their kids NEED to complete their day.  In reality, kids will scrounge off of someone else’s lunch, play volleyball in their Uggs, get a reduction in grade for late homework or request an extension.  In other words, it all works itself out.

Reminding myself of that, I decided to stick to my guns and drop the issue altogether.  My daughter of course made it through practice without a hitch, enjoyed her workout, and was only mildly annoyed at the fact that I had consciously decided not to bring her clothes to her in the middle of the day.  After thinking about it more, she said she completely understood and respected my decision and that it was a good lesson for her, but that she was still a little irritated by it.

Fine by me.  I’m her mom, not her fan club or girlfriend.  My job is to allow her to eventually figure things out on her own, experience consequences of actions, and see how the world really works.  The world works like this:  things don’t always go according to plan and sometimes you have to just deal with it.  She dealt, as did I.