One day at a time
Comments (2) I lost it Monday afternoon. Lost it. Fell back on my bed, rubbed my eyes and temples to ease a ferocious headache, and tried to convince myself that I was a good mom as both of my boys cried on timeout in their rooms.
Earlier that day my almost-two year old cried and screamed his way, out of the library, from the park playground to the car, and from the grocery checkout to the parking lot to our house. Why? He wanted and I didn’t want. When he didn’t get what he wanted, his entire body crumpled limp to the floor, pavement, sidewalk forcing me to drag or football carry him to our next destination.
To add to the mayhem, my 4 and 1/2 year old decided moments before each of his brother’s tantrums to ask me every possible question he’d saved during our past two weeks (or maybe his whole life) apart. ”Why is my car seat on this part of the seat, Mom?” “When do I turn 5?” “Why are we going here?” “Why?” “Where?” “When?”
I love my kids. I love my 24-hour job staying at home with them. I would be lying if I said that I love every single minute though. I find when it gets really tough, I have to take one day at a time. One hour sometimes. Ask anyone about this concept on day one of a military deployment. One day at a time. Motherhood difficulties aren’t exactly on the same scale as deployment difficulties but the required patience applies to both.
Lying on my bed Monday afternoon I reminded myself that it would take a few days for the kids to calm from their “grandparent mania”. I also reminded myself that it would take me a few days to adjust from my full-time Army routine. I took a couple deep breaths, gathered them from their rooms, and apologized that mom lost her patience. As they giggled a few minutes later sharing snacks, I sighed and thought, one day at a time.
Themocracy