I hate to admit it, but I’m not always as great a mom as everyone believes me to be, or even as much as I’d like to be. I have my moments, which lately have been occurring far too often than they should.
Being a stay-at-home mom isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. It’s hard. I can’t state it any simpler than that.
I’m stuck in an apartment with two, sometimes three, and sometimes even four kids the majority of the day. There are days I desperately need a break, especially when Soleil’s whining has hit my last nerve and Selene has decided to antagonize me and her sister. It drives me up the wall.
That’s when I call up my poor husband who is incredibly busy at work just to complain about what a sh*tty day I’m having. And my sweet, sweet husband always indulges me no matter how swamped his schedule is. That’s how I know he loves me.
Those are the days when I’m not a perfect mom. Not by a long shot. I’m short tempered, highly irritable and I take it out on the girls. The littlest things set me off and result in me being a little too stern in tone. And it isn’t until Soleil says to me, Mommy, don’t talk to me like that, that I realize I need to take a step back and just breathe. How humbling to have your 2-year-old point out your wrongdoings. It is even more humbling to look your 2-year-old in the eyes and admit that you were wrong and apologize.
I don’t ever want my kids to think that it is okay for me to speak to them in such a way. Even when they’re driving me batsh*t crazy, I should always remember they never deserve to be yelled at. They’re still learning the appropriate ways to express themselves, and clearly me losing my cool isn’t being the best role model for them.
And I can’t even begin to explain how my heart breaks into a million pieces after I’ve yelled at them. At my sweet, little girls who mean the world to me. To make them feel that they did anything to warrant being yelled at, when I could’ve just mustered up a few more ounces of patience.
Patience. It’s something every mom needs because kids are constantly testing it. I’m running low, and with two toddlers I need to keep that tank filled. all. the. time.
So forgive me, my sweet girls. Mommy isn’t perfect.
The priest that married Paul and I told us the girls would grow up to be smarter than we are… At only 2-years-old, Soleil already recognized the way I was speaking to her was inappropriate and uncalled for. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s already smarter than I am.