The Hobbit just fell asleep in my arms.
We fought this evening. There was shouting. About what? Ugh. Who knows. I didn’t give him enough free time. I rushed him.
“Why are you so cruel?!” he said to me. “I don’t know!” I said. “But if I’m so horrible, why don’t you go to the Mom Shop and get a new mom?!”
Man, do I hate fighting with him. I hate yelling. Even while I am doing it, I’m thinking: Surely there’s another way this could have gone. And I feel hasty, impatient, childish. Then I think: What was it that Dr. Spock wrote? That it is okay to get mad? That it is healthy even, for a child to see a parent dealing with anger?
Yeah, yeah. The things we tell ourselves. But did I deal with it okay? Who knows. I did what I could.
At least the night ended with a cuddle. And Two went to sleep easily. Lord help me when she really gets to talking.
Wine anyone?
Ah, Katie. Don’t beat yourself up. You are an amazing mother to two, amazing children. Honestly, I think these years are the toughest. I promise: it gets easier. I have so many vivid memories of the evening you describe. One morning, I remember being so agitated tha Jack had not eaten the breakfast I prepared, we couldn’t find his jacket, and we were running late for pre-school (like that really mattered!) Anyway, for some reason, a voice in my head told me to stop the rage I was about to unleash upon him, kneel down, put my hands (gently!) on his shoulders, and look him directly in the eye:
“Jack, can you please find your jacket? We need to go now or we’ll be late.”
“Ok Mom.”
And that was that. No screaming by me, no tantrum by him, and we were on our way. I remember thinking to myself, “Wow. That calm thing really worked! I should try it more often.” I love the image of him falling asleep in your arms. That’s what he will remember. Keep up the great work.