What a helluva week it’s been. I don’t even know where to start. But I guess I’ll start at the beginning.
Tuesday was the launch of my first eCourse. Which I thought I had all wrapped up neatly with a bow; but turns out I did not. After sending out my launch email, a kind friend let me know the link didn’t work. Oof. What a way to make an impression on my first time out of the gate.
I quickly had to fix it, which even though I had done within the hour, felt like an ETERNITY. Frustration and anger and even almost tears. Trying to read and fix and learn with a baby fussing in the background and a toddler asking for a snack over and over 10 inches from your face probably didn’t make it any easier. My lovely husband reassured my I was being too hard on myself (as usual) but it didn’t soften the blow of feeling like I’d screwed it all up.
In addition to that, said husband has had a crazy work week, putting out his own fire of sorts. So this has meant long nights, take out and lots of single parenting. I’ve said it before but single parents, you are the rock on which I stand and you forever have my upmost respect and admiration.
So today when I had the brilliant idea to use lunch as an excuse to “get out of the house” and haul my crew to our favorite sandwich shop, I wasn’t expecting much; BUT we were just running in and running out. What could go wrong?
I mentioned favorite, meaning we frequent this particular store. So the 4yo is familiar with its offerings and knew exactly what he wanted. This particular place includes a cookie with their kids sandwich, and this is the thing 4yo was focused on today. A sugar cookie. Because I have the crazy 4yo who doesn’t like chocolate. No I do not understand it and no he does not get this dislike from his father or I.
But today. Oh today. Today they did not have sugar cookies. Not even peanut butter cookies. Only chocolate chip.
Now I would say 4yo has come a long way in the tantrum department, at least in public. *Usually* you can reason with him and talk him off a ledge before a full meltdown ensues. Today was not that day.
With a howl that sounded as if someone were ripping his limbs from his body he proceeded to bawl and cry like a 2yo. Something possessed his little spirit and he could not even hear me repeating over and over that they did not have the sugar cookies. So loud you could not hear any of the other sounds in the shop, customers couldn’t hear employees asking them what they wanted on their sandwich. I could not hear the cashier asking me questions.
All the while I have an actual real life baby on my hip looking around like she was looking for her real family, because surely she could not belong to this circus from hell. I somehow paid for our sandwiches, carried her and them and dragged the 4yo (still wailing) out to our car. Where he stood next to me and screamed and cried while I buckled his still confused sister into her car seat. I then got him in the car. And he was screaming so loud in the car he couldn’t hear me or anything else.
So I screamed. I screamed as loud as I could to be heard above the noise. My face was red my throat was hurting and my heart was pounding inside my chest.
Thank goodness the baby wasn’t terrified. ( I think she actually giggled. Aren’t babies great?) And as much as I’d like to say I got through to the 4yo, there was still a quiet crying from the back seat all the way home of “but I want a sugar cookieeeeeeeeeeee!”
Clearly I am not winning any awards for parent of the year here. But you know what? For the first time ever, I didn’t feel guilty about my behavior. I knew the reasons why, I knew I needed a break. I still have no idea how to stop my 4yo from acting like a pod person. But mom guilt, parenting guilt is stupid. I’m done with it. Can we just be who we are?
Sometimes I’m the fun, silly mom. Sometimes I’m the serious mom. Sometimes I’m the distant mom who just can’t tune in no matter how hard I try (thanks anxiety & depression). Sometimes I’m the sweet mom. Sometimes I’m the have my shit together mom. And sometimes I’m the hot mess mom. But denying any of those parts of me for the sake of the other is, quite frankly, unhealthy and irresponsible.
We live in a time when so many people places and things are telling us to be this be that. How about be your fucking self. Quit telling me to wash my face and get fit and stop eating sugar. Perhaps being myself means I have choices to make, but they’re my choices.
None of us is perfect, and none of us should be trying to be. Some call it grace. Some call it forgiveness. I call it running out of fucks to give and let fate take care of the rest. Because I only get to be their mom once, in this lifetime. I will apologize to him for yelling. And he will hug me and tell me he’s sorry. And a week from now we’ll probably do this all over again. Bless.