I've decided that failure is indeed an option....
And sometimes, it's the best option you have. But here's the thing - after you accept defeat, throw you hands up in the air and just give in - you can let go, and move on. You can breathe in the good and breathe out the bad.
I'm on day two of being a stay-at-home mom, and this is what I've learned.
That, and that I just might need to lighten up a little bit. Because this parenting thing is super hard, and my kids won't always listen the first time. Or the second. Or third, or fourth. And the key is that I can't lose my patience with them. Mostly because me throwing a fit (and I mean literally throwing something across the room in a fit of rage) has only taught them that behaving like that is okay, so I can't really yell at them when they do the same thing - but I yell at them anyways, and thus begins a vicious cycle.
I find myself asking what I'm trying to accomplish anyway. I told my son that we were going to pick up the toys in the living room before bed. He refused. I asked again. He refused. I got mad - and down hill it went. The kind of down hill when you go skiing for the first time and you've mastered the bunny hill so you take on the biggest, baddest mountain they've got, but you forget to swerve and before you know it you're rocketing down a steep ass icy mountain on a pair of skis that apparently have rockets attached - tears of fear whipping off your face - those same tears making you blind which you think would be better but it's really not - and then you find yourself in a jumble of snow and skis but no pride or ego at the bottom of the hill. Yeah, that kind of downhill.
So what was I trying to teach him again? How to be responsible? He's 4. FOUR. He has his whole like to be responsible. Was I trying to teach him to be nice to his possessions? Because those are the things in life that really matter - a plastic toy?
And why did he react so badly? Was he trying to piss me off (which he says now, by the way, because apparently it's not a good idea to be blatantly honest about your feelings with your 4-year old)? Yes, that must have been it. Maybe, just maybe, he just didn't want to pick up his toys. Maybe, just maybe, he wanted to hang out and play with me instead.
And there it is. The ever-present Mother Guilt. Every mother has it, and it's an evil creature if there ever was one. Because now I'm sitting here while my son is in his room (doing something, I don't know because I gave up. See beginning for more info) and all the while all he wanted to do was play with me. This makes perfect sense, especially since I devote all of my time to his baby sister, or cleaning the house, or cooking food, or napping.
And it's day two, and I've failed as a parent. What do I do now? I toss my hands in the air, and move on. Start over. I go into his room and hang out with him. I try do better tomorrow. Maybe I will, maybe I won't, we'll see how it goes.
But first, I'm gonna have one more yogurt cup all to myself.....
