Sigh. Not all days are easy, are they? I haven’t yet found a parent who has said that every day of being a parent is fabulous. Sure, being a parent is pretty great. Seeing their little faces look up at you, watching them learn new things each day, seeing the thrill that a scoop of ice cream can create, it’s great right? But some days it’s hard. Really hard. I’ve been beating myself up most of the evening thinking about how today was bad mum day. I heard myself, and I knew what I was doing, but I couldn’t stop it.
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It started yesterday. Yesterday I picked missy up from daycare after my first day at my new job. I had a lot to process. Missy proceeded to cry. Not full on cry, but more a whining grizzle. All. The. Way. Home. This continued through dinner time and into the shower, where a full-on tantrum erupted, followed by bedtime sans story due to the unending crying. I forgot to add, hubby is in bed sick.
Today started much the same. Missy screamed when I entered her bedroom, and cried for Dad. After he did the morning nappy change he went back to his sick bed and it was Mum time. The grizzling continued. This time accompanied by unending requests, either “I want my dum dum, I want my dum dum, I want my dum dum, I want my dum dum, I want my dum dum” or “Carry me Mummy, Carry me Mummy, Carry me Mummy, Carry me Mummy, Carry me Mummy, Carry me Mummy, Carry me Mummy,” (you get the idea).
I pride myself on being more patient with my daughter than I am with any other human being on the planet (that makes me sound like a good person, but really most of the time I have little to no patience for everyone), but even mummy me couldn’t take this. I kept telling myself she’s just tired, she might be feeling unwell, she needs her mum, but I boiled, erupting, in a “WELL, YOU CAN’T HAVE YOUR FRIGGEN DUM DUM” or “MISSY, STOP IT! MUMMY IS GETTING CROSS! I’M ANGRY NOW!”. In writing it doesn’t sound so bad, but even hubby managed to comment on my harshness from the sick bed (though I do need to add that when this continued later in the day even he told her to shut up).
Some days it’s just harder to tune out the noise than others. Some days I can handle hours of crying with full patience and understanding. Today was not one of those days. We all have days like this. I can remember my own mother doing it – nothing quite like that moment you hear your mother come out of your mouth, today it was, “you’re carrying on like a pork chop!”, what does that even mean?!
Anyway, confession over. You may carry on …
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