This is no time for catchy titles, guys. Basically, I’m about 30 seconds from a wine-fueled whine where I talk about what a bad mother I was today and y’all feel compelled to 1) be nice and tell me I wasn’t a bad mother, 2) yell at me for being a bad mother, or 3) tell me I wasn’t a bad mother and then go and DM about what a bad mother I was.
Joshua didn’t nap and that ALWAYS sets me up for a bad afternoon. Even though I KNOW it’s going to happen. I cannot stop it.
It’s like I’m tied to a railroad track and I cannot untie myself and here comes the big, scary locomotive full steam ahead ready to run me over and SPLAT. There I am. Mom guts all over the living room screaming at my child while he screams back and then he ends up in time out and he’s beating on a wall and I’m still screaming while angry cleaning and screaming and he’s screaming and the baby is sitting there in the middle like “what in the hell is going on here, you two?”
He hits this overtired wall by about 3 and he’s all piss and vinegar and throwing things and slamming toys and throwing more things and I?
I LOSE MY PROVERBIAL SHIT.
He doesn’t understand that if he’d just taken a nap he wouldn’t feel so horrible and I wouldn’t yell at him. And I don’t seem to be able to stop myself from thinking he should just be able to understand that if he napped he’d feel better. So the cycle continues until neither of us is rational and we’re both insane and my biggest fear is that he’ll grow up with this memory of an angry mother and be afraid of me.
And no, I don’t think having my child be afraid of my anger is a good thing. There’s respect and there’s fear and those two are not the same at all.
Today I was not my best self. And I know that. And no amount of telling me “it’s okay” or “we all have those days” makes it any better.
But tomorrow is a new day.
Tomorrow I start over.
Tomorrow WE start over.
I’m thankful for that.