The wee one was up twice during the night and then up again too early to start his day, resulting in both of us feeling quite overtired and grouchy.
The big one was disgruntled to wake and find the wee one up already, since the early morning is the only mom-and-B-alone-time we usually manage to find.
There were four poopy diapers between 6:30 and 8:30am. One requiring a complete outfit change for the littlest.
Generalized crankiness was the mood of the morning. There was a lot of bickering over toys, falling down and scraping of knees and elbows. Screeching for my attention, and the endless, "Uppa!" ("pick me up, mama) from the wee one (who does, in fact, weigh 20+ pounds).
There were a few incidents of hitting, and several of pushing.
There was a lot of crying.
In the end, I loaded them into the car and went to the gym - foisting them upon my beloved gym childcare providers saying, "Good luck, they're HORRIBLE today".
I was a bad mama today. Too harsh. Too much yelling. Too much scolding, not enough understanding. Not an ounce of patience. Grouchy and cranky and (did I mention?) tired. Now that they're FINALLY napping, the guilt settles down. My voice replays in my mind, and I wish I had been kinder, gentler, easier. I wish I had remembered to breathe.
I feel restless yet exhausted. I can't relax, but can't bring myself to attempt to get anything done. I am frustrated with myself, the kids, the dirty house, the endless piles of laundry, and myself. Did I mention myself?
Unable to get out of my own head, I break out: The Duo
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| Crock Pot and Bread Machine. You'll have to imagine the super-hero capes |
A few minutes spent chopping vegetables and measuring flour. A settling begins in my frazzled mind. The endless stream of little frustrations and the guilt-laden thoughts begin to grow just a notch quieter as I work.
I am not the perfect mama. No where near the mama I thought I'd be. This is harder than I ever imagined it would be. I'll take a measure of comfort wherever I can find it.
A bowl of hot, spicy soup. A slab of warm bread. A good night's sleep.
Tomorrow's another day to try again, to find some measure of patience. To be the mama I can be, even if it's not the mama I feel I should be.
And when I fall hideously short again, I'll shine my soup-ladle-spotlight into the sky (like the bat signal - get it?) and The Duo will come to rescue us again.
Oh dear. I've had those days aplenty! For some reason, we forget all of the good days we've had, the times when we've taken that deep breath, the times when we've been at the pinacle of patience, the times when we've read "Go, Dog, Go" for the umpteenth time or played a very lopsided game of Chutes and Ladders or made the cookies while holding our toungue as the tiny fingers plunge into the batter. Cooking and baking has always been a refuge for me as well - and your recipes sound devine!
ReplyDeleteSo true! I never congratulate myself for those extremely patient moments, but I love to beat myself up for the impatient ones.
ReplyDeleteI love reading your blog. It makes me feel normal :) You are a great Mama to your boys!
ReplyDeleteThanks Sam - it's so nice to know I'm not alone here :)
ReplyDeleteMy butternut squash soup is a bit boring. I think I'll try your curry variety. So comforting isn't it? I love winter food.
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