I lost my temper today. Like really lost it. It took me about 2 hours to calm down enough to smile. I don't do that that much anymore. In fact, I thought I left that in the dust years ago. But, turns out, I didn't.
T was having a rough day to be sure. And that's what set me off, his screaming and hysterics. But what fueled my anger is something I've been feeling for a few weeks now. That I'm a bad mom. I'm a bad mom because he runs around the library instead of listening to me. I'm a bad mom because he's a horrible eater who would rather go hungry than have to stomach dinner. I'm a bad mom because despite my best efforts, he still will not poop in that dang potty. I'm just not very good at this.
So today when he was having the world worst freak-out, and I'm not exaggerating here, at a new friend's house, I had it. He screamed and hit things. I yelled. It was horrible. And embarrassing. And all those things that you feel.
And then he goes to bed and wakes up coughing. Like the yucky croupy cough that I hate to hear. So we go in there with medicine and he ends up throwing up all over me. Kind of a perfect end to a horrible day.
But then we all get cleaned up and tuck him back in bed. He looks so sad and sick in the bed so I go over there and kiss him on the forehead and say, I love you lots and lots Little Man. And he says in a little voice that's near tears, I love you too lots and lots.
I may not be perfect. He may not be perfect. But we love each other lots and lots and that's good enough for me.
Though I could have done without the throw up.
