"I hate you! You are the worst mom in the world!"

Of all of the first words I could hear on a gloomy morning or any morning, those would be my last pick. But I knew there would be fallout for pouring ice water on her. On the upside I knew it wasn't true because thousands if not millions of parents have poured ice water on their kids and we can't all fight for the the title of worst parent in the world... hey my dad did it and I am absolutely certain he was the best dad in the world. I did, on a positive note feel myself grow a little bit though. I shrugged my shoulders and replied that I still had the rest of the glass if she didn't get up. Then I went downstairs and lovingly assembled her lunch and allowed absolute silence to reign while I poured a cup of tea and curled up on the couch to read random google results on the appropriate response to a child's hate speech. I found some over simplified stuff, and some stupid stuff but then I found what I was looking for. A reminder that it's all about responding instead of reacting and connecting when they are lashing out. I soaked it up for a few minutes and relaxed. I went upstairs and woke the other two up who start school later. One popped up like a jack in the box as always and the other told me that a shower would never never never never happen this morning. I cajoled and tickled and poked and prodded and talked and finally left. I continued to hear "NEVER NEVER NEVER!" While I continued to reply that I wasn't sure he had taken a shower all week and it simply wasn't negotiable anymore. Finally in a cheerful voice I said I still had most of a glass of ice water to propel him to the shower and heard a lunge for the bathroom. I then turned back to dealing with the poor child who has the worst mom in the world and announced that it was time to leave. There was drama of course. A whirlwind rush and a pleading for me to do her face and hair. Even some silly speech about how if I didn't, her hair would look like a rats nest like I always say. I gently corrected her that I say it looks like a haras nest which is probably an imaginary bird my dad made up though I'm not sure.  I grandly acquiesced to her pleading. She had no idea that I had told her it was time to leave 20 minutes before we had to leave. I nicely told her if she doesn't want me to dump ice water on her anymore I can meet her in the middle as long as she offers a viable alternative for starting her day and holds up her end of the bargain. She nodded and had a penitent look. I knew she regretted saying it and I wasn't about to demand apologies or make it about me.  I know it doesn't sound like much but we are on a journey. I hear about very interesting middle school things while I wash her face each morning and night and blow out her hair every morning and skim a light coat of powder over her beautiful face. She feels how important she is. She ate the the bacon I cooked for her and drank the special tea I brewed for her and she knew. She got out of the car confident, beautiful and with a smile because she couldn't help it. I think learning that a child feels out of control inside sometimes and needs me to be the anchor is a welcome realization in my helter skelter world. It's taken me years to understand that my job isn't to squash a child's feelings that seem offensive or inappropriate but to allow them their course so a child can deal with consequences of saying things they wish they hadn't and find their way to better communication that feels good and most of all understand that my love isn't conditional on their behavior.
After dropping her off at a school she absolutely hates, I felt like a victor for one more day. I had done everything within my power to teach her that though some things aren't negotiable, she is completely loved. It was a good morning. Not every morning is and not everything I say and do is tempered with wisdom but when I take the high road, I always feel much much better.
Anyway,  here's the link if anyone else feels a little more reactionary than responsive sometimes. http://www.handinhandparenting.org/article/when-your-child-screams-i-hate-you/