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Thursday, December 1, 2011

Rough Morning

It has been one of those mornings.
You know the kind, where literally everything goes wrong starting with the sleepless night you had before.
Today I’m not sure if my name is Mom or Monster.
My 3 ½ year old decided this morning was a good morning to pick a fight, dig his heels in and refuse to do anything I wanted starting with breakfast and it just got worse from there.
I picked the wrong morning to pick a fight, dig my heels in and refuse to do anything my toddler wanted starting with breakfast and it just got worse from there.
These mirror images of each other set us up for World War 3.
He and I both did one thing together though – we both lost our cool.
It was ugly and I mean ugly. I’m sure you could see the mushroom cloud from space.
He screamed and threw a fit, I tried rationalizing, pleading then finally yelling and I yelled loud.
When it came to getting what I wanted done it was a disaster. I used every threat I could come up with, stopping short of any physical threat of course. I couldn’t get him to do what I wanted to do and he couldn’t get what he wanted so the battle lines were drawn.
I’m sure the Mother of the Year award is out of reach now, not that I ever thought I would even be nominated anyway.
I just believe that when you make a reasonable request, the child should follow it. At least what I believe to be reasonable. What’s reasonable to a toddler is an entirely different thing.
I just know that there are things that if you the parent, cave on, then the behavior will be that much worse the next time you make a request.
How did it get so bad? I refused to let him “win.” And he wasn’t willing to let me “win”. That’s it, plain and simple. Neither one of us was willing to budge as we both watched the clock ticking away, counting down the time for when we had to leave for school. To say we are alike would be an understatement and never as much as when we are both being too strong willed for our own good.
After the battle, we finally met in the middle, a place where both exhausted sides could compromise a little. We were still able to hold on to our dignity and feel like we both won, if just a little. But how pathetic is that? I mean, a mother and son should never go to war against each other. I should be his backup, not his enemy. How could I have been so stupid as to fight over something so insignificant? Was it really that important he do what I said for him to do? I thought about how awful it would be if something happened to him today and his last memory of me was us fighting. I literally felt sick.
When we had calmed down, I sat on the floor and held him tight in a hug. I apologized for losing my temper and yelling things I shouldn’t have and explained my reasons. I let him explain his, but I never really got any apology from him and being he is a young child I felt foolish for expecting one. He naturally did what all children do; he lost interest in the conversation and changed the subject.
We went to pre-school and I stayed while he did the first two activities. I explained to the teachers why I wanted to stay for a short time, stating we had a really rough morning. Bless them for their insight as it must have been written all over my face.
They both said they understood and said they have been there with their own children before and to not take it as being a bad mom. They said sometimes, it’s just the situation and no one can have the perfect answer all the time. They shared examples of where they “blew it” which made me feel a little better, but not much. I said I wanted to stay as a feeble attempt to make sure he knows I love him and I’m interested in what he’s doing, but it was probably more for my own selfish reasons in an effort to feel less guilty.
The fact that he was being defiant and that I was not willing to budge caused such a rift between us. I now am plagued with guilt and sit here in tears and in shame for my lack of being the parent in a bad situation.
Not only am I not Supermom, there are times like these where I don’t even feel I’m a decent mom. I want to be though. I really, really want to be a good mom! More than anything, for I know if I mess up being a mom, nothing else I ever accomplish will mean anything.
I have to stop writing now, as I only have an hour left before I have to go and pick him up. That doesn’t leave much time to finish crying and get my work done. But I am sure of one thing, I will be the first parent in line to pick him up. I can’t wait to see him, hug him and tell him how much I love him and to say I’m sorry about his luck at drawing me to be his mom.
One bad and sad mom.

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