Every single parent I know has lost control, in the chaos and frustration of the moment even the most mild mannered parent wants to punch a hole in the wall. Today, that parent was me. You see, the most complicated part of my day consists of trying to get my constantly distracted son to do things that he doesn't necessarily dislike doing but that he NEEDS to do. Put on your shoes, eat your breakfast, put on your seatbelt, stop peeing on the floor, etc. I think we can all agree that these are simple tasks that take all of 30 seconds to complete. For my son something as simple as a spider climbing up the wall can completely derail him. He CANNOT focus. This particular morning we were dealing with a clogged duct delay and as a result we were running behind. I finally was able to get the kids their breakfast but Dr. Distraction couldn't stay in his chair and finish because I'd made the monumental mistake the night before or laying out little gifts for each child t tier seat at the table to help start their morning of nicely.... So instead of eating they were playing with their new gifts. Once we'd reached the time we normally are getting in the car I cleared the table and told them they could finish eating once shoes were on and they were in the car. Cue meltdown. Dr. Distraction falls apart because he is starving to death. I calmly tell him to put on his shoes then he can eat. Meltdown turns to atomic bomb. The girls have their shoes on and I'm trying desperately to convince him that putting on shoes isn't the worst thing in the world. Then I see the clock and I snap. I stand up and tell him that if he has no shoes then he can't go to school and I usher the girls outside and to the car and slam the front door behind me. That's when I hear his heartbreaking cry. I'd hurt my little boy, I'd made him feel like he was so unimportant that I could leave him. Unfortunately, I was still in the midst of my fury and frustration so I walked right back in and put on his shoes for him. "Get in the car and put in your seatbelt" was all I could groan to him as I walked to the bedrooms to grab their jackets. I emerge from his room and there he stands his shoes off again. I screamed (not at him, more of a war cry except my army had just been defeated and I was about to sacrifice myself rather than being taken by the enemy). He cried. "I just want socks". I cry. I scoop him up, grabs his shoe AND socks, and put him in his car seat where he insists that he wants to put on his seat belt all by himself(he doesn't).
On the drive to school after we'd finally gotten through all of this I realized that I'd forgotten my oldest's homework folder, as well as the twins' physical paperwork, and of course my TB test results. These are all things I needed. I am a horrible, unorganized, cruel, TERRIBLE, no good very bad parent. I deserved to have my kids taken from me. Clearly I couldn't handle all of this responsibility. I drove to school crying. First school, disappointed look from teacher. Second school, disappointed look from teacher and a "we'll talk after class". I slump out to my car sick to my stomach. I'd caused my truly wonderful son to feel unloved and couldn't manage to complete the simple task of bringing a few papers to school. I lost it again.
What happens next we all know. We try to get past this feeling. Our stomach hurts. Our hearts ache. We KNOW that we are the worst parents alive and all we've done is secure our child's lifetime of therapy sessions. I am a broken woman, a broken mother, and through these tears I'm trying to remember that I love these kids and I'm really trying even if that isn't good enough. I'm not good enough, but I'm not alone. I have you other parents out there who know what it's like to scream into a pillow, to hurt your hand hitting a door in the garage, to feel like you were never meant to care for a little person as sweet as the one you made because you fail at every turn. Then you make macaroni pictures and kiss them and try harder every day not to screw up, not to cry.
I'm a broken mommy but I'm pushing past this. Hugs anyone?
