And by "it", I mean a category 10 gasket when my son pushed the table, spilling his little brothers dinner all over the floor. There are times when I smile outwardly while I'm raging inside. Today was not that day. I'm afraid I went a little bat-shiz, y'all.
I'd asked him to be careful around the little fisher-price table that they eat on because it shifts so easily. His little brother was wailing that "he's still puuuushing it, Mom!" Then, it happened. It scooted just enough to knock the plate on the floor, causing his brother to scream-cry big tears that his dinner was ruined and I saw RED. Not really, but isn't that what people say when they lose their cool? I may have only seen orange, but I lept over the bar stool I was straddling and towered over my young'en in lightning speed, screeching out accusations of not listening/being careless/disobedient/disrespectful/etc. The lecture went on and on. It doesn't help that I'm in the midst of a severe respiratory infection and have almost lost my voice. I sounded like a baboon on steroids. My son immediately started crying and saying that it was an accident. That was when I realized, "Way to go, Mom-of-the-Year. This performance should get you NO awards today."
I know we all mess up. It's just that I strive so hard to overcome the generational curse of my family. Flaring tempers and hurtful words have scarred many decades and many people and I do not want to continue that cycle. I want to give my kids the gift of a gentle parent. I wish I was given that gift. It's hard to know what you want to do and yet you consistently do the opposite. Paul in the Bible struggled with this as well. He nailed it with, "For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing." (Romans 7:19 ESV)
The most that I can do is dust off, and try to do it differently next time. I did take my little guy aside and apologize. I want him to know that's important too. When a mistake is made, it's made right. "It okay Mommy. I scream a lot too." Yes, my little man....that's the curse I'm trying to break. One day at a time. We ended the night with a pinkie promise to try super duper hard not to raise our voices tomorrow. Tomorrow, we'll tackle Thursday in "whisper-mode". No more crazy-hoarse -baboon-lady-gone-berserk moments. I'm so thankful for new mercies every morning.
