Time out.

Sometimes, I reach a point where I can no longer be as peaceful and empathetic toward my children as I would like to be. For whatever reason, I'm not fully present.

I begin to feel like a really, really crappy mom.

At that moment today, I texted Husband that my patience was running low. His response was one single, and yet wildly profound word:

Refocus. 

And just like that, I am reminded that empathy starts with me.

But what does that mean? Well, empathy looks different on every person, and sometimes every day.

Today, for me, being empathetic to myself means putting the monsters in their beds, each with a show to watch on an electronic device. It means Momma needs a time out.

doTERRA's Elevation and Serenity on, tall cold glass of water with lime, sitting at my desk, feet up. I just need 10 minutes of quiet; I need a time out.

Quickly into my solitude, the Princess Girl comes storming out. "My Sad. My need My momma."

**sigh** ok... empathy. "Darlin', Momma is in time out. Momma did not make good choices and momma is in time out."

She erupts into giggles and settles herself into the couch adjacent to where I'm sitting, apparently happy to continue her movie near to me.

Moments later, she is angry I will not replace the 1/3 eaten tortilla on the ottoman for a brand new one. She throws a plate. "You seem upset."

She throws a toy and it ricochets into my feet. "hmmm... That's two. You may have another tortilla when you eat that one."

She proceeds to throw the tortilla at me.  "That's three. Time to cool down."

I walk her to our spot in the hall where we sit and breathe.

She slaps me. "you seem really angry"

I carry her to bed and lay her down. "Take some deep breaths, cool down. You may come out when you're ready to use soft words and soft hands."

I close the door and walk back to my desk. 90 seconds passes. She's no longer screaming in my direction.

I hear tiny her feet scurry across the floor.

The door opens and closes loudly.

Silence.

A minute or two passes.

Quietly, I hear the door open and close softly followed by hesitant scampering down the hall.

She comes around the corner into the play room and pauses. "My Sad."

"I know. Are you ready to talk?"

She runs to me and climbs into my lap. She nestles into my shoulder. "Princess, do we throw things when we're mad?"

"sometimes..."

"Should we?"

"No."

"Okay. Are you ready to play?"

"yes."

She takes off to find her Hello Kittys without so much as a mention of her need for a fresh tortilla.

My darling Princess Girl, I love you more than my life, sass and all. You're giving me gray hairs. You're giving me sleepless nights and bags under my eyes. But Love, I absolutely adore you.

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