I’ve always been an over-apologizer. I can’t say why or when it started. My parents never held me over burning coals or lashed me with bamboo while forcing me to apologize, so it’s kind of a mystery. The worst part isn’t that I say “I’m sorry” on occasion; it’s that I find myself apologizing for almost everything. Including my kids.
At restaurants I find myself apologizing to the servers, “I’m so sorry, but can my daughter have more lemonade?” I find myself groveling, “I’m so sorry!” to other customers nearby when one or more of my kids gets up from the table. And God forbid if my child spills their drink. I feel so guilt-ridden that I practically scrub the floor with my pocket mop. (Note: I don’t really own a pocket mop.)
The grocery store is my biggest apology-eliciter. If I have my kids with me, you can assume I’m asking for forgiveness from everyone I pass even if we haven’t made eye contact. I may as well be apologizing for the plain fact that my kids were born.
It’s ridiculous. I’m tired of it.
I have always been told by friends and family that I need to stop apologizing. I guess I always saw it as a sign of authenticity.
It’s not that I’m not genuine. I find myself to be a nice person and accommodating to other’s needs. But I have started unnecessarily apologizing on behalf of my kids and that’s not okay. I don’t want them to grow up and think every little thing they did in their childhood warranted an apology.
The time my four-year-old threw a floaty at his swim teacher’s face as an evil gesture? THAT warranted an apology. Or the time the same child smacked a stranger’s bottom so hard while we were at a museum? Yeah, that was a good time to express a little bit of regret.
But the time my six-year-old was dancing in the aisle at the store and blocked someone for about four seconds? Not really apology-worthy. Is it frustrating? Sure. Or when my oldest lingers a few seconds too long at the frozen yogurt bar? Is it annoying to others? Perhaps. But asking a stranger to forgive your kid for doing something that wasn’t really wrong in the first place isn’t necessary.
If I keep asking strangers to forgive my kids for being normal kids, what kind of confidence will that give them? Will they always fear that their actions are wrong or apology-worthy?
As of today, I’m going to stop over-apologizing. I’m going to make some changes to how I react to my kids’ behavior. So from now on, if you see me in the store with my kids and one of them happens to be in your way for a few seconds, I’ll kindly say, “Thank you for understanding!” because I won’t be sorry.
Amy Stine is a stay-at-home mom of three crazy children, a dog, cat, and husband. She writes her own awkward stories at Tales From The Circus and is also a Contributor for Austin Moms Blog. When she’s not fetching snacks or cleaning up spills, she’s chasing the family dog to retrieve stolen socks out of his mouth. She hates mayonnaise and chin hairs equally and is still perfecting the art of the arm fart.
There is something about the open road, the endless possibilities that await out there, that calls some of us to travel. We want to experience what a place has to offer whether that is exploring its history or its nature trails. We want to see the unique wildlife. We want to eat the food. We wanted to immerse ourselves in the culture of a place. We desire to engage with the locals and learn about their lives. In our souls, we’re travelers—on a journey to discover all we can in this one journey of life. It’s easy to think once...
There’s a birthday in the house. I know tomorrow won’t really make you a whole year older. You’ve been hard at work checking off days and weeks and months since your last birthday paid us a visit. But tomorrow, your new year, your new number, your little bit closer to grown officially announces itself. A homemade paper crown will adorn your head, streamers will drape across the room, and candles will flicker atop your cake as we sing. And I won’t be able to look away from the swiftness of time as another year blows by. RELATED: Children Are Supposed To...
Our oldest is your protection, our youngest is your affection, and you, my dear, our middle . . . you are pure perfection. Our oldest is the one who teaches you, our youngest is the one who reaches for you, and you, my dear, our middle . . . you are sometimes too good to be true. Our oldest can start up a fight, our youngest can stay up all night, and you, my dear, our middle . . . you are truly just right. Our oldest reaches for your hand, our youngest is just learning to stand, and you,...
My father and I danced to The Chicks “Landslide” at my wedding reception. It wasn’t a typical father-daughter dance song choice, but choosing that song was the easiest non-decision I made regarding my wedding day. I never gave the song choice a second thought. I knew my dad and I would dance to “Landslide.” There had never been any other option. When I was in elementary school, my dad regularly drove me home from sports practices. Sports was our one bonding activity, and despite his busy work schedule, he often found the time to drive me home from softball and...
We’re not what you would call a typical family. My husband and I have three daughters with a wide age gap between them: ages 18, 9, and 2. We didn’t plan it that way. I was an unwed mother when I birthed my oldest, and I didn’t meet my husband until seven years later. Pregnancy came easily with our middle child, not so much with the third. After years of mind-numbing fertility treatments and repeated setbacks, we finally welcomed her into the world—a little later than we wanted, but she’s here. In a family with such wide age gaps, parenting...
Hey kids, You’re about to hear some incredible stories over the coming weeks as you watch athletes from all over the world compete. You’ll see athletes achieve a dream of winning a gold medal after a lifetime of hard work. You’ll hear about athletes who’ve come back from injury or hardship to finally make the medal stand. You’ll see winners hugging their families. You’ll see parents showing their children their medals. RELATED: Youth Sports Grow Strong Girls These stories are always inspiring to watch and hear. They prove hard work matters. They show you can come back after hard times....
The calls have been frequent in the past year or so. “Guess who’s pregnant!” “The wedding is scheduled for December.” My nana has 11 grandchildren total, me and my sister and our nine cousins. Only four of us have not married, become pregnant, or had a baby this year. I am one of the four. RELATED: Parenting Older Kids Can Be Lonely After so many phone calls celebrating the family news, I started to feel a little boring . . . and washed up, maybe? There has been no life-altering news from my house, nor do I plan for there to...
I finally got to hold her again. One last time. But if it was possible, I would have held on forever. I rocked back and forth with my baby, praying it wasn’t real. The reality of Reese being gone crashed over me when it was time to call my husband. How do you tell your husband your child is gone? His words and voice are etched in my mind forever. All he could say was no. “No, no, no. It can’t be.” And then came the tears. The wailing and not being able to hug and comfort each other....
When my daughter was 10, every time I told her she had a beautiful voice, she’d shrug and say, “I know.” No arrogance, no doubt. Nothing but sheer confidence. I wasn’t the only one to praise her singing, either. People complimented her often though she never responded with gratitude. Instead, she had such faith in her gift that she acknowledged their compliments as pure truth: “I know.” She knew she could sing, so like a sparrow in springtime, she did. It was that simple. She sang in the car, in the shower, in the garage (where the acoustics are fantastic), everything...
I wonder if she knows. Oftentimes I wonder if Lillyana knows how different her life is. I would have never imagined how autism would affect my daughter or how in awe I am of how well she handled it. My daughter was five years old (now nine) when her brother Jackson (now four) was diagnosed with autism shortly after he turned two. However, her life, just like her father’s and mine, had changed way before that. Shortly after Jackson turned one, our lives started to change. The main reason was due to her brother’s severe sleep regression issues. He was...
By Amy Stine 
by Angela Williams Glenn 
by Emily Roussell 
by Her View From Home 
by Brea Schmidt 
by Kirstyn Wegner 
