not always the mother i want to be

i had one of those good days. you know, days where you somehow find a way to balance fairly equally both the day’s tasks and being the mom you want to be. for example, i managed to pack turbo’s lunch, empty the trashes, clean the bunnies, do a load of laundry, answer some emails, edit some pictures, cook dinner and yes, even shower {and as i type that it doesn’t look like as much as it felt, but with a 3 and 1 year old in tow, the perspective shifts…}

on the other hand, i also managed to walk turbo to school, make a masking tape car track on the carpet, play cars on said track, dye noodles for a sensory bin, make noodle necklaces, help sunshine with his *about me* poster for school, grab 2 donuts as an after school treat, play baseball, and make a fort.

it was a good day.

but even the best days can turn sour after the sun goes down, at least for me they can anyway. the sun set and the night was filled with whining, and tattling, and crying, and more whining, and fighting, and with each bitty thing, my much coveted patience began to wane. and i slowly went from feeling like super-mom to super-crappy mom in just a few hours.

as the night went on and our bedtime routine began, my mood continued to worsen, and soon, i was letting my mind make my responses and not my heart. does anyone else ever do that? i get so deep into a bad mood it’s almost like my mind takes over in places where my heart usually leads, and when that happens, oh, it hurts. everyone around me, and me. it hurts.

tonight for example, the boys didn’t eat their dinner very well. at bed time they asked for their almonds {which is part of our bedtime routine, they always get almonds while we read}, but i was so fed up and impatient and bent out of shape from all the whining and crying and not listening at that point that my mind answered, *NO. you don’t get almonds tonight because you didn’t eat your dinner like i asked you to.* and all the while, as my mind is having my mouth say these words and the boys are crying, my heart is literally hurting. because it KNOWS. it knows how i should respond. how i would USUALLY respond. we would discuss eating dinner better next time, and they would get their almonds. no big deal. but the mind. MY mind anyway, likes to run like hell when it gets the chance, leaving my heart behind saying, *hey! wait a minute! that’s not how we act. you KNOW that. we act with love. with compassion.*

after stories, when it’s time for daddy to come in, they are literally standing at the stairs, begging me for love. and what do i give them? a quick kiss, and a few short words {they’re nice, but they bite} just to get them off to bed. out of my hair. all because i am impatient. crabby. and apparently, too busy, for one last kiss, word, smile. and by the time i walk downstairs, my heart has caught up with my mind, and i am sobbing. at the mother i’ve become in just a few short hours. at my insensitivity. at my impatience. at my words. at my actions. this, of all things, is not the mother, the mommy, i want to be. and as i cry, i feel like a failure. like, i am not enough. but there’s more. i’m sorry to say, there’s more.

the mind takes off again, and even though, i’ve cried, the impatience is back. rearing it’s ugly, unwanted head. lover comes downstairs. the boys are still awake. they want me to lay with them. from them more crying ensues, because who will i lay with first? turbo or sunshine? we smash into one twin bed, all together, we pray. together. all the while, my heart’s trying to catch up to tell me i’ll miss this when they don’t want to snuggle anymore, but impatience is imploring them to fall asleep so i can get up. my to-do list beckons from down the hall, and i am unsettled.

sunshine down. turbo to go. i think he’s asleep, try to make my escape. he asks where i’m going. says he wants me to lay longer, for a long time. my mind speaks and tells him, i’ve already laid a long time. he says,

*i’m sorry.*

i ask him for what. he says,

*i’m sorry you’ve already had to lay a long time.*

{heart. breaks.}

no, dear boy. I’M sorry. i’m sorry i’m not always the mother i want to be. that it’s physically and mentally impossible for me to be as awesome as i’d always like. i’m sorry we have nights like this. i’m sorry i’m impatient. that i talk to you in ways and tones that i would never allow you yourself to talk to anyone. i’m sorry i’m human. i’m sorry i’m not enough.

and yet, somehow i am enough. and he forgives. i don’t know how, but he does. and i tell him i love him. and he says he loves me back. and somehow, after that miserable night, there is still love.

these are the moments i hope they won’t remember, when i’m not the mother i want to be. but in the future if they happen to, i hope they will remember a mother who could acknowledge her faults, and who humbled herself before her child and asked for forgiveness.