We had a rough go of it this weekend. It actually started downhill before it even began. The kids and I had been learning about Ireland all week and had a party planned for St. Patrick’s Day. Friday I woke up and fought a terrible sinus headache through work. I was drained and cranky by the time I made it home.
I was trying to set up for the party. The kids were rambunctious. My son had completely destroyed a toy bin set up after we had spent the last few weeks re-doing their bedroom. After I almost lost my shit, I got “the mom look” from MY mom. I tried to pull it together. The rest of the party after that ended up being a pretty good time.
On paper, Saturday should have been a perfect day. Everyone finally slept well after being off schedule from day light savings. The weather was absolutely gorgeous. We had our favorite breakfast. All the makings for what should have been a great day were there. I mean if anything else, it was a SATURDAY.
It didn’t matter what I asked the kids to do or not do. They wouldn’t listen or would go from 0 to 10 in a second, totally tail spinning into full on meltdown mode. Usually when that happens they are tired or hungry. Nope not this time. Usually when that happens a change of scenery helps, like playing outside. Nope not this time.
When I say ANYTHING was setting them off, I don’t mean in a choose your battles sort of way. I mean I would scoot someone down on the bench of the dining table a smidge or give them the exact snack they asked for. Also, my daughter was experimenting with how far she could take back talking and how demanding she could be. Did I mention I got crotch punched twice? WHAT IS UP WITH THAT? I mean really! We made it through the day. I went to bed hoping and praying for a better Sunday.
Sunday was not better, and I mean from the second I opened my eyes it was not better. My patience were shorter. I felt like the only way I could get their attention was by damn near becoming a stark raving lunatic. After about the fourth incident of the morning and rising frustrations, I left the kids at the dining table and went to my bedroom for a deep breathe. When I turned around I was surprised. There was a scared little boy standing in the doorway looking down at his feet. He softly stumbled over getting out his words, “Mommy, can you stop being mad? We love you.”
Talk about stopping me in my tracks. My heart sank. My stomach felt sick. With a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes I dropped to my knees. I hugged my baby boy tight and told him I loved him.
They are 2 and 4 years old, and I AM THE GROWN UP. I am also only human. It was a frustrating weekend no matter which way you spin it, but it’s my job to set the example for my kids. I realize I could get onto adults for the same things I get onto my kids for, being cranky, talking back, not saying please and thank you. But to hear this from my child about me and know he was right, it was like a being struck by a bolt of lightning.
Wouldn’t it be nice if I said that after that things turned around, and we had a great Sunday? It didn’t happen that way. The rest of the day was still a struggle. But I was more mindful of my approach and reactions. And of course in true mom form, all I wanted yesterday was a little break. Now that the work week has started all I want is to be back with my kids, even if they do drive me crazy.